My Ghost (Love) Story
by Erik'sTrueAngel
Summary: After trying to commit suicide, Erik Trussler is saved by a mysterious woman. Now, he can't stop seeing her everywhere and the big problem—she's a ghost. Is it possible to fall in love with someone who is already dead? E/C!
1. Chapter 1

Genre: Romance/Supernatural

Rated: R or M

Summary: After trying to commit suicide, Erik Trussler is saved by a mysterious woman. Now, he can't stop seeing her everywhere and the big problem—she's a ghost. Is it possible to fall in love with someone who is already dead? E/C!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from _Phantom of the Opera_. I'm merely borrowing them, but any time Erik decides he wants to be owned by someone else… I do have a spot open!

A/N: I decided to do something different for this one and have Erik and Christine switch places. For the most part, Erik is always portrayed as the "supernatural" one. He has been used as the Phantom (duh), a vampire, werewolf, ghost, mythical beings, etc. And yes… I have written Erik as a couple of these things. But with Christine… she is always human, always normal. So I thought… what if the tables were reversed? What if Christine was really a ghost and Erik was part of the living? Then this was born. It is definitely modern day with a very interesting love story. I hope you stick with me and that you enjoy this story!

A/N2: In the past, I usually update once a week, but as of now, I have a full time teaching job (long term) and I'm still working at my other job. So in other words, I won't be able to update as often as I like, except for the chapters that are currently done. Then after that it will be whenever I can, but this will not be abandoned. I have it for the most part outlined so that helps. Now enough of me talking… here we go!

My Ghost (Love) Story

By: Erik'sTrueAngel

**Chapter 1**

Erik Trussler—famously renowned composer and singer, world's most eligible bachelor, Forbes #1 powerful and influential men, _New York Times _bestseller, and People's Sexiest Man Alive for three straight years in a row and four times back…

…wanted to end his life.

It was nothing new, at least for him.

He had been toying with the notion for years, and only recently was actually considering following through and just doing _it_. He had nothing to live for. Not anymore anyways so what was the point in going through life pretending that all was well? When really… life was meaningless.

Of course, he could see the headlines now. _Trussler Kills Self—For What? _

After all, he had everything that people dreamed of having; wishing they could spend the day in his shoes and basked in the glory of the high life. Even his agent, his business partner, and (depending on the day of the week) best friend, Nadir Khan would have to wonder why he would do something so selfish when the world was in his lap?

It wasn't like Erik was heading into bankruptcy—not when he was pulling in a net income of about 2 million a year and being estimated as worth five times that amount. His books have been consistently on the bestseller's top list for ten years. Not to mention that his operas were all successful hits and his music could be bought in almost every country in every single format available. He had done countless interviews, specials, hosting events, charity fundraisers, political fundraisers, and even performing occasionally in his works as a surprise to the audience. He had endorsements in all shapes and sizes from Evian to VH1's Save the Music.

He was not only a millionaire, but a businessman, musician, artist, author, and philanthropist. Why… a year ago he had helped raise almost a quarter of a million for Make-a-Wish and has done more or less for various organizations and non-profit charities.

His name alone raked in money.

So no… Erik Trussler was not becoming poor anytime soon.

Perhaps it was his social life, the lack of companionship.

Nope.

Known as a ladies' man, Erik had a new girl on his arm every week, whether they were associated with him as either professionally or personally. Even when he was in a relationship, rumors were persistent that he had a girl on the side. George Clooney had commented once that he wished he possessed Erik Trussler's magnetism for the opposite sex.

And if that wasn't a compliment… then what was?

Yet, with all the success and fantastic sex life, Erik Trussler was not satisfied with his life.

If they dug deeper… then they would find the reason.

Of course, he thought it was fairly obvious.

The tabloids might conclude that he was harboring a secret alcohol/drug addiction. It was the latest craze nowadays with celebrities and entertainment personalities to admit to the world that they had issues with some narcotics. Even the young stars could be found dead of an overdose of some kind.

However, Erik wasn't a fresh-faced, young kid surrounded by the onslaught of peer pressure. And he did have a problem with alcohol but he was nowhere close in having the same symptoms as some alcoholics do. He can function without a drink to jumpstart his day. And yes… he has appeared in public completely intoxicated once or twice, but in this world who hasn't?

No. He had no problem there unless someone wanted to convince others that he did. Like Nadir.

Yes Nadir… he believed there was a problem, but Erik didn't see it as a concern and his drinking has not affected any of his business deals.

So what reason did a man of thirty six who was desired, envied, wealthy, and successful would want to cut his life short?

For one… there was his face.

Erik was first introduced into the world of entertainment after performing in _Star Search_ back in 1983 when he was only seven-years-old. He didn't win, but he certainly gained a lot of attention and became an immediate overnight sensation. People were amazed and awestruck for someone his age with the incredible talent he possessed. The piece he played on the piano was Kaikhosru Shapurji Sorabji's _Opus Clavicembalisticum. _It is widely known as the most difficult and challenging piece to ever be played and anyone who has attempted this complicated rendition does so terribly.

But not Erik.

He has been and will ever be (apart from the original composer) to perform this music flawlessly. Even when it had to be shortened to fit the time slot for the show… Erik Trussler managed to play it with all the grace and emotion within it. A feat like that should have been enough to win the competition, but Erik did win in the end with the attention he received. Everyone wanted a piece of him… to have him perform live on television and in concert halls and in front of famous heads of state and the list went on.

The world was enthralled with this musical prodigy, despite the fact that he happened to wear a mask. If anything, the mask proved to be alluring and made him all the more adorable, and yet… speculations would rise about what was underneath it.

Some had said it was for his protection to keep people from recognizing him (even though it was a half mask), some said it was for his eccentricity (then again, how many children are eccentric?), and the common one of all… he was scarred. The latter was closer to the truth since Erik was born with a birth defect that affected his right side of his face. His parents tried everything they could think of to fix the damage, but there was never enough money to cover the medical bills and the doctor's costs. But when Erik started to pull in money from his appearances and interviews, they were able to afford the surgeries.

Unfortunately, nothing could be done to correct Erik's face. The doctors were more fearful that they would cause further damage to him and more often than not… turned the family down. One doctor was brave to try and it only ended up in disaster. Afterwards, Erik's parents didn't want to make any more attempts lest it would end up hurting rather than helping him. But they didn't want him to be scrutinized or judged by his fans and critics.

They would squash any rumors about Erik's face, explaining that he had a fascination with masks and liked wearing them so they indulged his wishes. This did result in some backlash on their parenting, but his parents would rather have the heat on them and not their little boy. Fortunately, it did stop the gossip for a while until Erik was older. Then it picked up again… this time with women he allegedly dated (but never proven) and people who wanted to ruin his reputation. But when he was a child, Erik had a decent childhood with supportive parents, although he knew that his face would be a problem later in life.

For his parents' sake, he pretended there was nothing wrong with himself and he wouldn't let the criticism get to him… but deep down, he knew the truth. He knew he was hideous if no one had truly seen him. And god bless his parents… they loved him but even they had a hard time meeting his eyes if he took his mask off.

It was best to ignore his shortcoming and focus on his music.

He turned out CDs of various composers and when he was ten he recorded his first original album. Then at thirteen, he wrote his first opera. There was some skepticism when _The Veil of Illusion _was produced, but to the shock of his critics, Erik's opera was an immediate hit. Not only did classical music lovers flock to see his show, but also other music fans as well. They were all intrigued by this boy's talent and had to witness firsthand his genius.

Erik would write and produce six more operas and one Broadway musical. The musical went over well, but Erik preferred the complexity that operas could bring and focused on them. At nineteen, he wrote his memoir. As he grew older, Erik would write two more autobiographies, several collections of the history and analysis of music over the centuries, and dozens of music and theater reviews for various newspapers.

At twenty, Erik opened his first theater in Detroit (his birth place) and by thirty… he opened several other ones around the world. Plenty of singers would get their careers started thanks to Erik Trussler and he would be mentioned as the inspiration for many musicians regardless what type of music they sing or play.

Everything was going well until tragedy struck when Erik was twenty-five. His parents died on Flight 175 that crashed into the Towers on September 11th. It had been so sudden and horrible that Erik didn't know how to react, except drowning his sorrows. The days and nights would consist of drinking and work, but no amount of each could take away the pain and anguish at the loss of his parents. Considering the nature of the event, no one could fault him for doing this, even though it was severely unhealthy.

Then came in Nadir… He was so irritably annoying and tried to get Erik into therapy and such that he wanted nothing to do with it. He must have fired Nadir a dozen times, but the damn Iranian continued coming back and cleaning up his messes. No matter how many times Erik told him… Nadir would not leave him be and he had warned Erik that he would be on his ass until he straightened his act up.

Erik did cut back on his drinking, but he still drank when occasion called for it or when he needed something to take the edge off. And sometimes… even his relationship with the love of his life, Elena Carlton, would have him sipping the bottle.

He did love her. Honestly, he did. He never once cheated on her when they were together and she was the light he needed to chase away the darkness in him.

She helped to keep him sane, and in an ironic twist of fate, she would also make him unhinged.

Which explained the on and off again relationship they had for three years.

Erik first met Elena she was this new pop sensation that came onto the scene. Naturally, her name had no meaning to him since he was not a fan of this style of music, but Erik was told that she would be presenting an award to him. In that moment, when Erik went up to accept the honor, he took one look in her eyes and fell hard.

She was a goddess. With her long, wavy blonde tresses, her deep emerald eyes, full pouty mouth, and a laugh that could make anyone smile… Elena had captured his attention and he had to introduce himself properly. The drunken stare at her chest while taking the award Erik Trussler was not someone he wanted her to know him as. So a month later he had the opportunity to correct the faux pas when she gave a concert in the same city he was visiting.

It wasn't difficult to snag a ticket and backstage pass. Once the show was over, Erik surprised her with a bouquet of roses and apologized for his brazen conduct and if she wanted to have dinner with him. She had been taken aback, maybe even in awe that this powerful man was apologizing to her and was asking her out on a date. She said yes and the rest as they say was history.

His drinking lessened, but it wasn't long before Erik was back at it again. Of course, he had good reason and it did help him survive the several nights when he attended her concerts in support like a good boyfriend.

She wasn't a bad singer, on the contrary, he would never associate himself with her if she was, but her preference was not his cup of tea. He wished she would try his classical world and sing for him. Of course, Elena made it clear she wasn't a fan of opera and after going to one opening night with him, she never wanted to go back again.

But he had to go to her shows.

Yet, he refused to give up on changing her mind. Erik kept insisting that her voice, if trained properly, would be able to take on any of the leading sopranos. He told her this countless times and if she would just try once… _just once_… then perhaps she could see that classical was better than pop and she could quit that popular mainstream and focus on real music.

If she didn't want to… then fine. But as long as she gave it a shot and saw what Erik sees in music, then she might better appreciate the necessity of the classics.

Of course, Elena didn't see it that way.

What bothered Erik the most was she didn't see that she was better than those other pop singers. That she actually possessed an instrument that could be bragged about. At least, if she sang classically she would be immortalized while the pop world would drag her down. It was a wise decision to leave that behind and do something worth doing.

But that argument was mild compared to the ones they had about his mask.

In the first six months of their relationship, Elena was not bothered by the fact he wore one. She said it was sexy and made him aloof. Then as time wore on, her tune quickly changed and she was loathed to look at it and not him.

Erik had been honest from the start that he had his personal reasons for wearing the mask and that he would never remove it in her presence. He had to guess that when Elena heard him… she didn't think he was actually serious until she asked him to take it off one evening.

"Aren't you hot wearing that old thing?" she asked.

"No." Erik was busy getting the fire started in the fireplace.

"C'mon. You must be. It's only the two of us here. What's the harm?"

"Elena, I already told you… I have to wear this mask for a reason. I'm not taking it off, end of subject."

That was the first time they broke up, but ultimately, they would find themselves thrown back together and they would continue where they left off.

It was a pattern.

When they were together, everything was wild and passionate. And despite Erik's loathing to the pop world, he was grateful that it introduced Elena to him.

Kind of ironic.

But despite the numerous times they left each other, Erik loved her. She was the only woman for him and he knew one day it would be permanent.

Until then…

As time went by, the mask still remained a sore subject and it was continually driving a wedge between them. It got to the point that magazines and the tabloids were publishing stories that highlighted the couple's unhappiness and that it was Erik's fault for not taking his mask off once and for all. Of course, the reason for the demand was not to make Elena happy. Oh no… it would make for a fantastic good story if they saw what was beneath.

Selfish bastards.

Yet, it was the price that was paid for living in the spotlight and while Erik didn't want to lose her for good… it was apparent it would come to fruition. One day, Nadir went to him and warned him:

"If you don't take the mask off you will lose her."

Easy to say for someone who didn't look like him. However, Nadir didn't understand. No one could understand. Erik didn't want to believe that his mask would end their relationship, but then four months ago… he heard a rumor that Elena was having an affair.

Erik's first reaction was to grab the nearest Jack Daniels, but instead, he chose to confront her head-on, hoping to put the rumor to bed. He knew they had their ups and downs and a fair share of rough patches, but never like this. He figured it was another made-up story that was often spread in his world and he brought it up as a joke.

The "Hey, you won't believe what ridiculous thing I just heard about you" open liner.

The good humor quickly ended when to his absolute dumbfounded state Elena admitted she had a lapse of judgment while on tour. Then to his continued speechlessness, she said it was his fault that caused her to cheat. So if anyone should be angry about this thing it should be her.

"When I look around, I see these other men and I think how sad it is that I don't know what my boyfriend looks like, but I know a complete stranger's face," she told him. "I feel like I can know their whole story just by looking at their faces, but you Erik… I know what the world knows and the little that you want to confide in me. What I want to know, what I need to know… is _you_. I want to know you Erik. Is that so wrong?"

When Erik was able to regain his voice, he fought to keep his composure. "No. But Elena you have to see it from my point of view—"

"It's always your point of view Erik. What of mine? Doesn't my opinion matter?" Elena exclaimed, moving away from him.

"If you saw you wouldn't like it." That was the honest truth and Erik didn't understand why she wouldn't take his word for it.

"How do you know that? Do you really think I'm that shallow? Erik, you have known me for three years now… do you think I would leave you because of your face?"

He left her to cool off and when he returned to his apartment… Erik thought about her last statement.

Did she believe he thought her to be shallow? She was probably the least shallow person he ever met, except for her poor excuse to cheat on him. But would she really leave him?

He didn't know.

But deep down Erik knew he couldn't continue to hide forever, not if he wanted to have a future with her.

He forgave her for her infidelity and promised he would take her feelings into consideration and tried not to be so demanding. And he will show her what was behind his mask… but at his time.

It was a step in the right direction and Elena agreed she would wait for him to make the decision to take it off.

This brings us back to the present.

Three days ago, to be exact, Erik fulfilled his promise. He took off his mask and Elena took one look, walked out the door, and never returned.

His calls, texts, and emails all went ignored. Even her publicist wouldn't answer him. And then he just saw on TV that Elena was seen walking the streets of New York City with some hot shot actor, prompting the question did she and Erik Trussler split again? Reps close to the singer said that she and Erik went their separate ways and decided it was best to see other people.

And the chances for another reconcile?

None.

Funny… he never knew that.

So while the rest of the female population was rejoicing that Erik Trussler was back on the market… Erik, himself, was severely depressed.

He wanted to believe so badly that Elena wouldn't leave him. When she said she wouldn't leave him based on his face, he believed her. She was so fierce, so determined that they could make it and he fell for it. He thought she was right and they could do this. It was his fault and his stubbornness that kept them apart and had them growing discontent. All he had to do was take off the mask and that would solve everything.

Yeah, right.

So the love of his life had ripped out his heart, moved on with her life, and he was supposed to do what? Move on too?

Easier said than done and he supposed he should be grateful that Elena didn't tell the media what he really looked like. Maybe she was doing him a favor for walking out or maybe she didn't want to be reminded of it if it had been plastered all over the media. Whatever her reasons, Erik could never forget what this meant. If Elena could not stomach his face, then what were the odds of him finding another woman that would?

And if he couldn't find happiness… then what was the point of living?

The wealth, the titles, the fame… none of that mattered if he couldn't have love.

So at the very moment, Erik Trussler was standing over his balcony on the eighth floor and was contemplating his final thoughts. The darkness invading him would end and he would be free of this existence… free of this face.

He thought about his parents and how wonderful they had been, but knowing if they had a perfect child… they wouldn't have to protect him as much.

He thought about Elena… she would be in his life if he was handsome.

Closing his eyes tight, Erik gripped the railing and began to climb over when he heard a voice.

"No! Wait!"

He opened his eyes to see a woman running through his apartment towards him. He thought _how the hell did she get in?_ when he lost his grip and fell backwards.

The pain was acute and for a minute… Erik could hardly breathe. His entire body was on fire, his nerves standing on end, and he wasn't sure if he could move not with the raging pricks all over.

He remembered hearing screams and the sounds of people running towards him.

But it was the woman… the one he saw in his apartment that he remembered clearly.

She was standing over him, her blue eyes filled with worry and tears, her curly brown hair floating past her shoulders as she tenderly touched his shoulder.

It was so light, so tender… that he barely felt her, but her breathe wash over his face as she whispered:

"Hang in there Erik. It'll be all right. It'll be all right. Just hang on. Help is on the way."

TBC…

Also… I should mention… suicide is never the answer. Please keep in mind this is only a story and if you ever feel like there is no hope, then please go and speak to someone. Life is precious and you need to keep in mind… things do get better even if it appears that everything is bleak. The time will come when everything becomes brighter.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm glad you all like this so far! This is certainly becoming one of my favorite stories I have written. Now, I should warn you, that this one will contain a lot of flashbacks. It all pertains to the plot and I have it set up so it will be easy to follow. Don't forget to review!

**Chapter 2**

_Two Years Ago…_

_July 2010_

"So what do you think? Did I do good or what?" Nadir asked as he and Erik entered the apartment.

Erik took one look around and shrugged. "It's a fucking apartment Khan. You see one, you see them all."

Nadir shook his head. "But this is a beauty! And I got a great deal on it too. Fifteen hundred a month and… and… take a look out here." Nadir walked out to the balcony and held his arms up. "Your theater is a couple of blocks from here and just get a load at that view. Let me tell you… not all the money in the world can afford a view like this."

"You know, Nadir, when I asked you to help me find a new place to live that was closer to my work… I was thinking more on the lines of the Ritz."

"That's all the way in Dearborn, not closer," Nadir retorted. "Look, I know money's not an option. But just look around. This has a lot of potential."

Erik turned his head to look behind. "It does need a lot of work."

"But you can do it. Think of it as a project. You will be so busy that you'll forget how cheap ass this place is."

"Or that I'll be too busy not to do anything else?" Erik shot back, which Nadir wisely chose not to glance at him. Rubbing his chin, Erik sighed. "Nadir, I appreciate this…"

"No you don't so shut it," his friend said. "Erik… I've known you for a long time now. Listen, I know you and Elena are having problems again, but you need to keep your mind focused. Drinking isn't going to solve the issue. And as much as I know you hate when I'm all Mother Goose on you, but I want you to know that I do care. You are more than a meal ticket to me."

Erik snorted, shaking his head. But Nadir continued. "Give it some time. Four months max and if you still hate this place, then I'll look to see if there is an opening at the Ritz. But I'm not going to be your chauffeur. Deal?"

"Deal." Erik looked out over the railing, not wanting to admit it was a nice view. He could see the Renaissance Center, Comerica Park, and like Nadir said… his theater, the Trussler Opera House, was about a couple blocks away. Walking back and forth in case of emergencies or whatever else should arise was convenient and he wouldn't have a need for a car. Yes… Nadir did a good job after all, not that he was going to admit it and give his a friend a bigger head already.

Then again, Nadir was astonished with Erik's request to find him an apartment in Detroit. Yeah, he and Elena were at the moment not together (again), but to move away when it wouldn't be long for them to work it out?

But it wasn't the reason and he had planned to do this even before he and Elena broke up. In fact, this was what they were arguing about.

His Detroit opera house was suffering financially and word got back that one of the chorus girls had unexpectedly died a couple months back and not only was the replacement horrible in learning the choreography and songs... but even the lead actors were demanding more money and other benefits and would perform badly on purpose to get their way. It was so bad that opening night had people leaving during intermission.

This was not acceptable.

Erik had to return and he didn't know long he would stay there to get the opera house back on track, but however long it took… he was going to make sure it was back on top again.

Elena didn't understand why it was a big deal to him. He had other theaters that were doing well and so what if he had to close one? He wouldn't be losing anything. But Erik would. After all, this was his very first theater he opened and Detroit being his birthplace… he felt a strong sense of pride to keep it alive in this city. This was his baby and closing it was not an option. Not in his books.

It was a pity that Erik hadn't realized how incompetent Andre and Firmin were when he hired them to be in charge. Instead of firing the leads, like Erik would have done, they chose to give them more money (only half a percent of what they were asking) and in return got a mediocre performance. To his outrage, these silly demands have been going on for a while, which was costing the opera house to lose even more money and closing would be inevitable if Erik didn't step in.

The first thing he did before meeting with Nadir was to fire those two idiots and after that task was completed… here he was checking out Garner Apartments.

It wasn't like it was a terrible place… the building had been renovated with the latest amenities and the roof had a pool, tennis court, sundeck, and even a jogging track. The security was within Erik's standards, but it was the fact that it wasn't as luxurious as his other apartments in New York, Los Angeles, London, and Paris. It was a large enough size for one, about sixteen hundred square feet with two bedrooms and two baths. And he did notice that the living room would hold a piano, which was a must. But when Nadir told him how much per month, the price was lower than he thought.

"Look, you can't knock a place just because it's not a million plus," Nadir told him before entering. "Just take a look, will you?"

So Erik did.

And he found that he did like it. But he couldn't give in right away and make Nadir think he was right all along. No… Erik had to milk it out just to torture him for a little longer.

"I suppose it will do, but don't start cheering prematurely," Erik warned the Iranian and the other man had to fight back a smirk. "I will agree to your conditions, but if I'm disappointed with anything…"

"I know, I know," Nadir said, rolling his eyes. "You will strangle me and put my remains on display."

"Christ, Khan," Erik said. "Who do you take me for? Besides, I will only display your remains if you sell me out and open your own chain of theaters."

"How could I forget? Afraid of friendly competition?"

"Of course not. I will always win, but it would be a lesson to learn with my new business partner."

The men shared a grin and started to walk back inside. As Erik surveyed the interior once more, he asked, "So why did the previous tenant move out?"

"What do you mean?"

Erik gave him a look. "You said you spoke to the tenant when you came in to see the apartment. If this place is so great like you say, then I'm curious why someone would want to leave that's all."

"Oh, well, it was a young guy, a lawyer I think, and he was ready to move on with his life. From the sound of it, I'm thinking he had a nasty break up or something." Then Nadir's eyes twinkled. "Hey, maybe you two could meet and swap stories how the women in your lives break your hearts."

"Fuck you."

"Feeling's mutual," Nadir replied and the men shared a chuckle. "Okay, you think you will be fine?"

"Yes Nadir and if I feel like there's a monster hiding somewhere… I'll give you a call to check underneath my bed."

"Smart ass," he muttered and shook his friend's hand. "Welcome to your new home."

Erik did a sweep over and nodded. "Welcome home."

xxXXxx

Within a couple of weeks, Erik had his new furniture moved in and most of his belongings unpacked. Nadir had helped out and left about an hour ago.

Deciding he needed a break, Erik went out to his living room and collapsed on the couch. It wasn't that bad of an apartment. The only thing that took a while was repainting the walls. The previous owner was doing them in this plain beige color, but stopped halfway in the living room as if he changed his mind on the project. The other rooms were done in other basic plain colors, but this was the only unfinished room. Well, Erik didn't like the original paint so he had all the rooms redone in the color scheme of his choice. And since he could afford a whole team of painters… it didn't take too long for the job to be completed.

Erik liked dark colors—especially, black, navy blue, and forest green. The kitchen and dining room was done in a modern black and white pattern, sleek ebony countertops, and matching table and chairs. The floor was a black and white checker tile and he hung up a similar print on the wall to match the look. The bedroom was a forest green color with taupe carpet, the living room was navy blue with contemporary furnishings and it showcased his piano (his violin he kept in the privacy of his bedroom). The second bedroom he turned into an office and the walls were already a cream color, which was not too bad, and he kept it that way. As a lover of art, Erik had various paintings, photos, and small sculptures throughout the apartment, with a few that were of his own work. He even decorated the balcony with green plants and a bench to sit out and enjoy the view.

The place quickly turned into a home and it was ten times better than his other homes.

After catching his breath, Erik stood and went over to his piano. He glanced to the side where he kept a picture of his parents on top of the mantle on the fireplace. Their smiling faces greeted him and he found himself returning it in spite of himself. Then he flexed his hands and fingers and began to play.

_Yes… this is home._

xxXXxx

In the beginning, there was nothing unusual that occurred in the apartment. Erik woke up to go to work to about nine… sometimes eleven at night and compose for a few hours before going to bed only to repeat the same routine the next day. On the weekends, he would leave the theater at eight so he could jog on the roof track and then return to compose some more. In between the activities, Erik would sneak in a bottle of wine or whatever he had stashed.

But nothing happened.

It wasn't until about a month later that Erik returned from a party with a lady on his arm. They were both drunk, and she had been shamelessly flirting with him the entire night and Erik thought why not since he and Elena had not made up.

After stumbling inside, Erik pressed her against the wall, lifting her up so her feet could dig into his back while they dry humped each other. When she tried to reach for his mask, he reached and pinned her arms above her head, which only turned her on even more and him as well. Just as he was about to thrust into Natasha… Natalie… Nancy…whoever she was, Erik felt a blast of ice cold air against the back of his neck.

The sudden chill had him stop immediately, shocking him to his core, and it caused him to drop his "date" unceremoniously to the ground. He looked around, wondering where in the world that came from… but the door to the balcony was closed and he knew he left all the windows closed and locked before he left for the evening.

Yet… there was something about that cold touch that sent chills down his spine.

So, he helped the woman up and suggested they go back to her place instead.

The second incident was stranger than the first.

Erik was alone, sitting at his piano, working on his new opera while taking drinks from the wine bottle on the table end behind him. Although, he was drinking more than he was working since he was stuck on what note or chord or key he should do. It was something that didn't sit right with him and he banged on the piano keys for a couple of minutes, cursed out loud, and turned to grab the bottle.

He set the bottle back and resumed his stance when his blurry vision realized the music sheets were gone.

"You got to be shitting me," Erik mumbled as he swayed in search of the missing sheets. He found them five feet from the piano and frowned. "How… how… how did you get there?"

He pushed away from the bench and walked over, or rather tripped, to get them. Once the papers were in his hands, Erik turned around just as he heard a chink and the bottle tipped over and was pouring the remaining red wine on the white carpet.

"Fuck!" Erik dropped the music and ran over to stop the flowing wine, but it was too late… it was all gone and all over the floor.

Now, Erik could have been sworn that he set the bottle in the middle of the table to avoid it from falling over. And there was nothing by it that would cause it to suddenly tip. He might have been drunk, but he was lucid to remember how he set the wine bottle.

And this wouldn't be the first time either.

Erik would come home from work to find his alcohol on the kitchen floor, the bottles smashed to pieces. This happened at least four times and once again there wasn't any explanation as to how it could have happened.

Erik was growing frustrated and pissed that his drinks would be gone before he even had the chance to enjoy them. Nadir thought it was a sign that he should quit drinking altogether. Of course, he would think that.

Yet, Erik didn't understand why this was going on. It didn't make any sense.

So Erik decided to see what would happen if he didn't buy any alcohol and waited for something else to fall and break. Nothing did. Then he bought one wine bottle. That remained intact. He experimented a few more times, adding a couple more bottles, and they were unmolested.

Perhaps, he had been buying too much… And when he checked the wine rack he bought, it did feel a little flimsy. With a sigh of relief, Erik kept his consumption to a minimum… well, not two bottles a day.

After that occurrence, nothing unusual transpired for another three months.

During this time, the thought never crossed his mind that there was a sound explanation for this strange activity. No one wants to believe that their home might be… you know. And Erik chalked it up to the fact he was drunk each and every time something happened. The broken wine bottles were due to an unstable rack and he eventually replaced it with a sturdier one. Thankfully, nothing happened to the bottles after the new wine rack.

Then he started to have other experiences… this time he was one hundred percent sober.

Some months later during one morning, while taking a shower, Erik thought he heard a woman singing. Now, he knew Elena went back to New York for an appearance on Jay Leno later that night and he knew it couldn't be her. Frowning, he turned off the water and grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist, and went to check it out. Stepping into the living room, the singing had stopped and there was no one there.

"Odd…" he murmured, going into his office to look and then his closets. "I thought I heard… You must be hearing things Trussler."

He went back to the bathroom to finish getting ready for work, but he couldn't stop thinking at how terribly sad the song sounded…

The same thing happened a few days later, but instead of singing, Erik heard what sounded like his name.

He was sitting at his piano when a soft whisper tickled his ear, "_Erik_…"

He started and whipped his head around to see where it came from, but all he saw was an empty room. But while the singing had been faint this was distinct. He _heard_ his name. Someone had spoken to him as if they were right in the room with him.

Swallowing thickly, Erik got up and checked the apartment. And like he expected… empty.

He was alone.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered. "I'm not drinking and I'm still hearing things."

Then he wondered if it had to do with all the work and stress he was feeling lately. That made sense. At least things between him and Elena were good. So the only thing he could do was to take a break and not do anything that demanded his attention.

He went to his room, pulled out his violin, and went out to the balcony to play. He warmed up the strings and his fingers before launching into a concerto. It was the sweet melody that instantly brought a sense of calm over him. Somehow, the violin was always a comfort to Erik when he needed to unwind. He remembered as a child he would often play for his mother when she was feeling down.

Just thinking about her… about _them _and now they were taken away from him brought tears to his eyes and he switched to a requiem. As he played, another emotion swept over him… it was not only despair but this overwhelming sense of loneliness. Erik had felt lonely off and on, but he never felt truly lonely as if he was the only person that existed on the planet. That no matter how loud he screamed or raved… no one would notice, not even flinch to show he was there.

That raw melancholy penetrated his mind and flowed from his fingertips to the violin. Music was a powerful drug, one that could make anything tangible to the touch. It could bring joy or sadness to a person, make them burn with desire or turn to hate. Music was a language all in its own and it could be felt by the one who creates it and the one who understands the emotion.

Right now, Erik felt like he was in the middle of communicating something important… something so significant that if he listened closely, he could make out the message. He wasn't the only one suffering from heartache and loss… no… someone else was suffering even more than he. It was like the promise of life and hope had been suddenly snatched away and there was confusion as to why and how this happened. There was a flood of anger, fear, dejection, disorientation, and… sympathy.

Immediately, Erik froze mid-air, the note cutting off abruptly.

All those emotions that were waging in his music were now settling over him, encasing him in an invisible cloud that took all the air out of his lungs. It was heavy, thick, and potent.

It was too much… he felt… oh how he felt! All this pain and no relief or peace to be found…

The cloud grew tighter around his lungs and he was gasping now… trying to breathe but not finding the oxygen he needed. Tears blurred his eyes, the stinging and burning in his chest, and he dropped the violin to grab his heart.

In a blink of an eye, the cloud dissipated.

Erik felt the suffocating pressure lift from him and he was able to breathe easily once again.

He took one gulp of air and then another and then another. Finally, he could breathe without hindrance.

But he couldn't shake away the powerful feelings he felt, nor could he stop trembling from head to toe.

He had to get away. And _fast_.

Erik scooped up his violin and deposited it on top of his piano before grabbing his jacket and keys and walking out of the apartment.

He didn't look back.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you everyone for reviewing this story so far! We are starting our wild ride and while some things might not make complete sense… trust me, it will later on. Don't forget to review!

**Chapter 3**

_Present Time_

Lights… bright and fuzzy blinded him. A flurry of voices buzzed around him, barely making sense as the lights went over him faster and faster…

"What… hap…"

"Attempted—"

"-injuries?"

"…contusions… possible… internal…"

"Pupils dilated…"

"Mask…"

Erik blinked, unfocused and hazy. He tried opening his mouth, but the pain was too unbearable. He heard something about his mask and was going to tell them to leave it be, but the thunderous roar in his ears was too much and he could feel himself slipping back into unconsciousness.

He felt a soft and gentle squeeze at his hand and Erik felt warm and safe as he blacked out once more.

xxXXxx

_September 2010_

After that incident on the balcony, Erik was nervous to return to the apartment. It was silly and childish, especially since he was a rational man and wasn't frightened of parlor tricks or monsters or anything of that nature.

Yet… there was something about that apartment that unnerved him.

He stayed the night at Nadir's (since Erik moved to Detroit, Nadir had to too) with the excuse that something was wrong with the air conditioner and when he went back to change… Erik skipped the shower and shaving.

But while at the theater, Erik knew he was being absolutely ridiculous. He was a grown man for Pete's sake! He couldn't let some… whatever that was get to him. He was Erik Trussler and nothing was going to stand in his way or prevent him from returning to his home.

No doubt someone was playing some kind of prank. And he intended to find out who it was and if he had to… he would beat that person to a bloody pulp for screwing with him.

He stormed through the apartment with a force checking every wall, every nook, every cranny, every door; nothing went unnoticed by his questing gaze. He searched the corners and pounded on the floor and walls and even the ceiling to make sure that nothing was installed without his permission. This might be a game to someone, but to Erik… it was an invasion to his privacy. The last thing he wanted was someone finding out about his mask and having it plastered all over the media.

When he couldn't find anything, he had the landlord looked into it as well. Erik ordered that he see all records pertaining to his apartment from repairs to renovations, anything that required his permission.

Fortunately, with his high connections and influence, Erik was able to get the information he needed without getting that much of a fight. That and a good threat to bring the police in also did the trick. He scrolled through the documents and could find nothing that was suspicious or unusual. Everything that was put to order was a routine fix or sensible request by a tenant. Even the floor-plans didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary.

He was running out of possible ideas that explained the phenomena he was experiencing.

So one evening, Erik confessed to Nadir what he went through and demanded to know what exactly did the previous renter said about the place.

His friend gave him a hard look and then finally burst into laughter. This agitated Erik only further, failing to see the humor in his predicament.

When Nadir's laughter started to subside, the Iranian wiped away a tear as he said, "Oh Allah! Are you saying your apartment is haunted?"

Now, it was Erik's turn to give him a hard look. "Haunted? Where the hell did you get that from?"

"Unexplained moving objects, disembodied voices… I mean, man, it has paranormal activity written all over from the sounds of it."

"You have been watching _Ghost Hunters _for too long."

Nadir frowned. "Don't laugh about it Erik. It is very real. Ghosts are real."

"Yes and so is Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and Bigfoot," Erik retorted, shaking his head. "I need a real answer."

"All right. Well, then you're missing the obvious."

"Really? And what would that be, oh wise one?" Erik snorted sarcastically.

"You're drinking problem."

At this, Erik threw his head back and laughed. "Look, Nadir, it's not because I have been drinking. I will admit I was drunk the first few times, but lately I have been sober when this shit starts happening. I'm not imagining it and it's not because of how much I drink."

"If you say so, but Erik you do have a problem. You have to admit that since your parents died nothing has been the same."

"Of course it hasn't!" Erik exploded, growing angrier that the focus had to go back to his drinking. "Listen, I didn't come here to tell you this just so you could lecture me about the responsibility of drinking or tell me I have a problem. I don't. But what's going on isn't possible. I don't know why and I don't understand it, but this is driving me nuts. I just want it to stop."

Nadir saw how tired and defeated his friend appeared. This wasn't a joke. This was bothering Erik so much that the man was at a loss what he could do to stop it from continuing. Nadir took pity on him, quitting the teasing remarks and dropping the drinking issue for now, and gave him a solemn look.

"All right. I guess the best thing you can do is try talking to it."

"Talking?" Erik repeated, unsure if he heard Nadir correctly.

"Yes," Nadir said, nodding. "Talk to it. If it is a spirit or ghost, then it is probably trying to make contact. Find out what it wants and put it to rest."

"The way you said it makes it sound so simple." _Not to mention, too easy_.

"Well… nothing is. But you have to remember Erik. If this is a ghost, then at one point or another, this ghost was an actual person. It's possible that it doesn't even know it's dead."

As Erik walked back to the Garner Apartments, he couldn't help but reflect on Nadir's words. _It doesn't know if it's dead_. For some reason, Erik found that very thought horribly wrong that someone doesn't know if they were alive or not. Then again, the idea of ghosts and spirits was a bunch of bullshit. Yet, here he was considering Nadir's advice.

_Maybe it wouldn't hurt_, he reasoned. _After all it's just talking. There is no harm in talking… to the air._

While he drew closer to the door, Erik couldn't believe he had convinced himself to give it a shot. What did he have to lose?

But there was no way in Hell he was going to admit to Nadir he did this. Or tell Elena.

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

Lying on the bed, hovering between consciousness and unconsciousness, Erik couldn't help but dream back to that day when he decided to make contact like Nadir had suggested.

Of course, he felt rather ridiculous sitting in the middle of the living room floor, talking to the empty space. If anyone was to walk in on him or God forbid overheard the one-sided exchange, they would have thought he lost his marbles. Hell, even Erik believed he must be going crazy if he was resorting to this. He wasn't a believer in ghosts or anything paranormal. To him, dead was dead. Once you died, you were buried and either forgotten or forever remembered. You did not come back to this world. No… your body rots and decomposes in the ground and that's the end of your legacy. Erik wasn't a religious person, his parents were atheists, and he was first and foremost a skeptic. Nadir was a believer, which provided plenty of fodder for Erik to give him a hard time about it. Even Elena went to church once in a while, but she wasn't as strong of a believer as Nadir was.

Yet, here he was. Doing something he never thought he would do and for a reason he didn't want to wrap his mind around. To admit there was a spirit present… the media would have a heyday if Erik Trussler told the world he was being haunted by a ghost who won't let him drink.

Or have sex.

Yeah… best not to tell anyone about that. Or, he would have to kill them.

So for two hours, Erik asked questions, asked for a sign or presence, something that would indicate that whoever was there understood him. Then another hour passed without contact.

He was becoming impatient and angry with each passing second. What? Did the ghost have nothing better to do now that he's trying to make an effort here? Or was this some supernatural prank that Erik was missing?

Letting out an irritated growl, Erik decided to stop with this foolishness. There was no ghost in his apartment. If there was, then the ghost would have done something. But with only the silence and the still air, Erik was grateful that it wasn't anything after all. Now, he won't have to keep obsessing about it. Perhaps he should lay off the wine for a while.

He crawled into bed and instantly fell asleep. However, unbeknownst to the sleeping composer, there stood a shadow in the corner of his room. He never saw nor sense the presence and he never saw the distraught look on her face.

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

Nadir burst through the doors and was running down the hall in the hospital, frantically searching for the emergency room. When he heard the evening news of a jumper… and that it was rumored to be Erik Trussler, Nadir rushed down there as soon as possible and broke a few speeding laws along the way.

Not having any luck and more than likely getting himself lost, Nadir grabbed the first nurse he found.

"Please… you have to help me find…" Nadir panted as he spoke. "My friend. He was the one… with the mask."

He didn't want to confirm the identity yet… bad publicity and all and Erik would kill him if he knew his privacy was being invaded. Well… he would if he wasn't in this situation. But Allah above, Nadir hoped that it wasn't Erik. That it was some other eccentric masked man who tried committing suicide.

"I'm sorry, sir, but unless you're family I cannot—" She started but Nadir cut her off.

"Please, you have to. He doesn't have any family. I'm the closest he has to a brother. Please. You have to help me."

The nurse, a young woman with auburn hair, bit her lip as she thought about the trouble she could get into without proper authorization. Yet, there was something in the man's eyes and the desperation in his voice…

Letting out a sigh, she whispered, "All right. I'll help you but this is our little secret, okay?"

"Thank Allah!" Nadir breathed in relief. "Thank you so much."

"Let me check my records." She took him to the nurses' station and began typing some information into the computer. After a couple of minutes, she lifted her eyes from the screen to tell Nadir what she found.

"It seems your friend is in surgery to stop the internal bleeding and will be getting some tests done to make sure there isn't any other severe damage done. He will be placed under suicide watch for the night. Now, I can go to the doctor and tell him that we might have a possible ID so he can talk to you. But that's all I can promise. He may or may not let you in to see him."

"That's fine. Thank you so much. You're a lifesaver," Nadir told her, causing her cheeks to flush warmly.

"It's the least I can do. After all, something happened to make him that desperate to jump off the balcony. He's going to need someone supportive to stand by his side."

_Yeah and I can't imagine what drove him or anyone else to do it_. Before Nadir left, he asked her one last question. "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know… was the mask removed?"

"Yes. There was no other way."

Nadir thanked her again and once he had the directions to the emergency floor, he found it and waited for a doctor to come out.

Some hours passed before a doctor came out of the room. As soon as Nadir saw him, he went up to him and told him who he was and that he believed his friend was in there. It took a while to get confirmation of the facts and to locate the actual doctor that took care of Erik. Then it had to be checked that Nadir was indeed the emergency contact for Erik if something should happened to him. Once that part was over, the doctor was able to speak freely to Nadir as there was no immediate family to notify.

"We were successful in stopping the internal bleeding in his chest and finished an MRI and Head CT… now waiting on the results, but for the most part, your friend is very lucky to be alive. He suffered several broken ribs, right arm broken, and both ankles were fractured, but thankfully, there wasn't any serious damage done that would prevent him from walking. He would have to be off his feet for some time, yet I am confident he would make a speedy recovery."

"Thank you," Nadir breathed, clasping his hands together in prayer. "Thank you Allah."

"That's the good news," Dr. White continued. "However, by law, I am required to keep Mr. Trussler under observation to make sure he doesn't try again in his suicide attempt. I understand his celebrity status, but I am not going to let him go as soon as he wakes. Not that he can with his injuries, but I will not have him move anywhere else. He will stay like any other patient with the same situation Mr. Khan."

"No. I completely understand and as long as I know Erik is in good hands, I'm fine with it Dr. White," Nadir said. "My only concern is how this will be handled. He does have a reputable name and I don't want anything leaking out. Not until I have a full understanding of the situation and can make a statement on Erik's behalf."

"Of course. You can count on the discretion of my staff," Dr. White assured him.

"Good," Nadir said, nodding. "That also goes towards the mask… I know you said it had to be removed."

"…Yes so we can check to see if he suffered any damage to the head. I'm assuming he had it since birth."

Erik rarely spoke about his face to Nadir, but he knew from hints and clues that Erik had a physical deformity of some kind. Nadir never saw his face because that was Erik's wish. No one was allowed to see what was beneath the mask, and Nadir never questioned it, respecting his friend's request.

"That's correct," Nadir responded.

Dr. White nodded. "Only a few saw including me, a couple of nurses, and the paramedics. I can vouch for each and every one of them that they are trustworthy and dependable and they will not speak to anyone about Mr. Trussler. I run a tight ship here, Mr. Khan, and I expect that all my patients are treated with the respect and fairness they deserve, especially when it comes to personal health reasons. I can understand why both you and Mr. Trussler want this kept from the public and I will do my best to honor it."

"I appreciate that. When can I see him?"

"Right now, Mr. Trussler is finishing up those tests and he will be taken to a safe room. He will be monitored by cameras and there will be a guard on duty the whole night to make sure nothing happens. I will let you see him but only for a few minutes."

That was all Nadir wanted. He thanked the doctor and waited in the lobby until a nurse came to take him to Erik's room. The doctor hadn't been kidding when he said there will be cameras present to monitor him. Nadir never saw so many in his life, but his attention immediately went to his friend who was lying lifelessly on the bed. He was hooked up to a couple of machines to monitor his heart and body rhythms. He had an IV in his left arm and his head was bandaged as well as his chest and both legs.

Erik's mask was on the table next to him and while he slept… Nadir was able to see what his friend really looked like. Of course, this wasn't his best angle, not with the bruising and swelling and not to mention the very pale complexion. Erik certainly looked like he went to Hell and back and lost a couple rounds to get to this place.

Nadir sat down, staring at him, but not in disgust… True, Erik's face was unsightly and if he had to be honest… downright butt ugly. But, Erik was his friend and he needed serious help if he thought suicide was the answer.

Of course… the answer to what? Nadir would have to wait when Erik woke to find out what pushed him to this edge of desperation.

The Iranian leaned forward to check what else there was and barely suppressed the shiver that Erik's left wrist was bound in place as well as the top of his legs.

_Protocol_, Nadir thought. _It's all hospital protocol when dealing with an attempted suicide. I have to remember that. It's all in Erik's best interest. He will be up and ready to knock down the door to leave in no time. And I will argue with him that he should stay so his condition won't worsen. _

It was safe to focus on the future. To plan what will happen. As Nadir envisioned the predictable argument that would occur, and he was mentally preparing his responses, he couldn't avoid the silent tears over the misery that Erik must have endured. Right now… he will cry for him, but later… later he will become the level-headed and business like always person for Erik's benefit. He wouldn't want pity and Nadir won't give it to him.

But it won't stop him from chewing Erik out.

When it was time for Nadir to leave, he rose from his seat and as he walked to the door, he couldn't help but hear Erik's voice murmuring:

"Where is she? Where did the woman go?"

xxXXxx

_Eight Months Ago..._

It took almost two years but Erik did it.

The Trussler Opera House was doing better and was raking in more money now that Erik was able to get the theater back on track. Getting rid of the past stars did cause sales to dip even more (the very few that went and stayed were fans or something), but once Erik found new and better talent… tickets were selling out.

He even promoted Nadir to be the head manager.

It wasn't like his friend was exactly thrilled about the promotion, although he felt it was more of a downgrade, and Erik told him, "You're the only one I trust who won't sink this theater. I need you to keep it alive."

The trust card was played and Nadir knew how much this meant to Erik and he acquiesced. Nadir would take the position and stay in Detroit as long as Erik promised to come and help out when he needed it and to check it three times a year to show the actors they could be replaced if not up to par with Erik's standards.

"Does this mean I'm your Persephone to your Hades now?" Erik asked.

"Believe me when I say that you're the last thing I want returning every year. And I said once… you were the one who wanted three times."

Bantering aside, they shook on it and Erik started making the preparations to move back.

He was going to keep the Garner apartment since he could use a place all ready to go to crash. Despite the odd occurrences he experienced after moving in, Erik did love the place. The last thing he wanted to do was give it up.

He figured he would return in a couple of months to randomly check on Nadir. He wouldn't tell him of course. And the opera he was currently working on was put on hold since Erik came down with a bad case of writer's block. In the one year he lived in Detroit, he was looking for inspiration and just when he was on a roll… Erik would write himself into a corner. There was always something that didn't sit right with the score or the characters or even the plot.

And it was really pissing him off.

Erik never spent this long on an opera. It would take him at least six months to push one out, but this one… Erik didn't know why this was suddenly a challenge. He thought about shelving it for another project, but the perfectionist in him wouldn't allow it. He had to finish _Don Juan Triumphant_ even if it killed him. This was going to be his greatest masterpiece of all time and with the time already invested… it proved to Erik this would be his best work.

If he could only finish it.

So not finding the right drive to finish it, Erik thought New York might help. After all, he never had a problem writing there and it could be the prescription the doctor ordered to get him out of this block. Not to mention, he needed his Muse close by since she could not fly out to see him as often as he liked.

Yet, while he packed, Erik couldn't shake away the feeling he was being watched. He kept glancing over his shoulder, expecting to catch someone, but there would be nothing there.

Narrowing his brow, Erik forced himself to stay on track and finish his packing. He wasn't going to waste any attention or attempt to speak to whoever… he tried that once already and was ignored. So he was going to ignore it right back.

But try as hard as he did, Erik couldn't deny the change in the air. Sadness crept into his heart and he placed his hand over his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath his fingertips.

It lasted only a second before he flicked it away and continued his task.

Then everything felt like it was back to normal.

No more sensation of being watched and no more feelings of empathy.

Instead of triumph, Erik felt only emptiness. He wondered if he was too cruel for ignoring the contact, especially since he didn't know who it could be. However, Erik had his suspicions and it might have been farfetched, but sometimes, he would fantasize that it was his parents reaching out to him. That would explain the breaking wine bottles, but it didn't explain why they wouldn't communicate to him when he tried.

Were they disappointed?

Erik had mulled it over and over in his mind, but it was odd that they would be here in Detroit and not in New York where they died. And after 9/11, Erik never had any experience that would indicate his parents were still out there.

But it was wishful thinking on his part. He wanted it to be his parents, but Erik highly doubted that this _thing _was them.

"Mom… Dad…" Erik whispered. "If it's you, please…" He left that plead hanging mid-sentence and like every time he uttered those words, the room greeted him with silence.

_You're losing it Trussler. Keep it up and they will lock you away in the loony bin._

xxXXxx

_Three Years Ago…_

_January 2009 _

Erik hated these award ceremonies.

You been to one, you been to them all. Nothing ever changes, except the choice of vendor and drinks served.

Erik was on his fifth for the night and he was slowly getting a buzz. But it wasn't enough… No… he was going to need a lot more to help him through the rest of the evening.

Being back in New York after being abroad for two months, and of course, the first thing _they _wanted to do was honor him. It wasn't a spur of the moment ceremony; Nadir had reminded him before he left that there would be an award shindig to commemorate his achievements thus far. Erik had mercifully forgotten about it until advertisements were posted on every taxi cab and building that Erik Trussler was receiving a lifetime achievement for all his works in the music and art community. Apparently, his peers had pushed for him to be nominated.

Erik had to hold back a derisive snort.

Peers…

They weren't his peers. All they saw was money in the room. If he had to make a bet, he would say that none of them knew the difference between Bach, Schubert, or Vivaldi. Another bet would be that no one else in the room would know two of the three.

They didn't care about the craft itself. It was all about who sold the most and who profited the most and whose name was widely known.

Not only that… Erik was surrounded by dolts in their twenties or younger who thought (or believed) they could sing. He heard a couple singers so far as entertainment and he had to do everything he could from taking his glass and shoving it into his eye. What God awful torture this was to listen to the annoying high pitch, electronic synthesized voices!

And they called it music. Erik called it loud noise with no sense of logic or story to tell.

The only good thing was that Nadir wasn't around to prevent Erik from drinking to drown out the badly out of tune singers. But if his friend was there, then Nadir wouldn't fault him for binging. He probably would be pouring Erik's drink and his own to block it out.

That caused Erik's lips to curve into a smile as he chuckled at the image in his head.

He was now on drink number eleven when he heard some name being announced to grant this prestigious award to Erik Trussler. He vaguely recalled that they hired some newcomer to present the award to him. Bad enough they didn't recognize musical talent when they heard it and now… now they picked some pop princess to give him an award for his classical contributions?!

What the Hell happened to seeing if Josh Groban could do it? Or even Andrew Lloyd fucking Webber!? Anyone with a classical or musical background would do, but a contemporary singer? Was that best they could do to show their respect and admiration for his work?

Before he knew it, the lights were shining on him and people were breaking out into applause as the woman finished speaking his accolades.

Here was his cue.

Kicking back the last of his shot, Erik rose and walked to the stage. Even though he was loaded with alcohol, Erik managed not to stumble or make a fool of himself as he climbed the steps to the stage. It was either high tolerance or great show of sobriety, but Erik couldn't stop grinning at the thought of his eyeballs filled up with amber liquid and wondered if anyone else noticed.

As he approached the woman, he had to admire the view. She was petite—but not too short—a great, pert ass, and those legs… the slit of her dress just gave a fleeting glimpse of the creamy skin. Erik was dying to know if it was soft as it looked or taut by the toning she must do to keep them in shape.

When she turned to face him, all Erik could zero on was her flattering endowment. He prayed to God that they were natural because they looked like two soft pillows that he could nuzzle his face between.

With that thought echoing in his inebriated mind, Erik found himself leaning towards her, but the woman quickly scooted out of the way as if she knew what his intentions were… and was stopping him from embarrassing himself. Realizing where he was, Erik straightened his posture and accepted the plaque. His fingers brushed against hers, which created a spark of electricity to go up his arm. The shock forced Erik to meet her eyes and at that very moment…

The world stopped spinning, time stood still.

And all Erik could hear was the loud pounding of his heart.

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing this story. I'm glad you're enjoying it. I also wanted to make a special dedication of this story to my grandfather. He recently passed away and while the week has been tough… he encouraged me with my writing, always wanting to know what new projects I was working on and for spending countless hours listening to my ideas. This is for you.

**Chapter 4**

_Present Time_

Nadir returned the next morning to the hospital, fighting off cameras and reporters when he went inside. He kept repeating, "No comment," over and over and pushing the microphones out of his way while also shielding his eyes from the blinding lights of pictures being snapped.

If only the ground would open up and swallow them whole, then Nadir would have a very good day. Unfortunately, such an event did not occur and he had to make do with forcing through the throng of people to get within the safety of the hospital doors.

Finally… Nadir was able to breathe at last.

Last night was a sleepless one… with Nadir constantly pacing and checking the phone in case the hospital called to say that Erik… well, he didn't want to think about his friend dying in his sleep or another attempt to end his life. But as he trudged down the halls to the elevators, Nadir could feel the exhaustion building up and he had to keep rubbing his eyes to keep himself awake.

When he reached the floor, Nadir immediately got his second wind as he walked towards Erik's room. The nurse was still inside checking his vitals when Nadir let himself in. She turned to acknowledge Nadir and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Last night was a good one," she told him. "Mr. Trussler slept the night away."

"At least one of us did," Nadir mumbled.

"Sir?" the nurse asked, her brow furrowed in confusion for not catching what he said.

Nadir said, "It's nothing. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Yes. Dr. White is still going to keep Mr. Trussler under watch until he is stable enough to be moved to another room to recover. Dr. White will be in later to discuss with you our therapy program for patients who have been trying to commit suicide. It might be good if Mr. Trussler speaks to one of our counselors."

That would be the last thing in the world Erik would want to do. He didn't like talking to Nadir about his personal issues, and to have him speak to a complete stranger? That was not going to fly well, but Nadir said he would look into it and thanked her for the information.

As the nurse started to leave, she did stop to add something else. "I almost forgot! There was one thing that happened last night."

"What?" Nadir asked urgently.

"Well, Mr. Trussler did wake briefly, but with the medications he was on… he didn't make much sense, yet he kept asking to see this woman. She tried stopping him from jumping and she stayed by his side on his way here."

"He said that?"

The nurse nodded. "I think he wanted to thank her. I don't know if it someone's you might know."

"I'll have to look into it. Thank you."

Nadir watched her go and took his seat so he could sit by Erik. He frowned as he laced his fingers together. A woman stayed by his side? From what Nadir understood… the paramedics who arrived were men and no one else rode with them to the hospital. Could it have been a nurse when he came into emergency? But that didn't explain her trying to stop Erik from jumping…

Whoever this mysterious woman was, Nadir thought; he owed her thanks as well for helping his friend.

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

_Three Days Ago…_

The moment Elena walked out on Erik; he was in a catatonic state. He simply stood there, staring at the door, half-willing and half-hoping she would come back. As the minutes ticked by, the door remained closed and it became all very real to him.

She wasn't coming back.

_No! _his mind screamed. _She has to! She promised! She said she wouldn't leave. She said she loved me…_

But that love apparently was not enough to allow her to see past his face.

Not even all the wealth or fame Erik had accumulated made him desirable now.

He could feel his insides crumble, his body shattering into millions of tiny pieces, as the room moved in on him. Erik fell to his knees, his hands burying into his face, as he wept out loud.

He lost her… _he lost her_… and he was alone.

Oh God, how he believed her seconds before the Reveal. How she stood inches away from him, her eyes glowing with happiness and this bright, huge smile on her face as she said, "I love you Erik."

He had one hand in his pocket, enclosed over the small black box, and the other over his mask. In that split second, he felt confident that she would say yes once she saw him. Love is a powerful emotion that would withstand any obstacle and he believed that Elena would see past his face to the man inside.

As her declaration of devotion echoed in his ears, Erik lifted the mask.

_One second_.

He dropped the mask to the floor, his hand pulling out the black box, and Erik got down on one knee. He finally gazed up at her, into her beautiful eyes and angelic face, and he held his breath as he murmured the words, "Will you marry me Elena?"

_Four seconds._

The luminous light that filled her features instantly froze and the glow in her eyes started to fade, the color in her cheeks went from a rosy hue to ashen white. Her smile… was still plastered on those ruby lips, pressed firmly together and tight, but the corners began to twitch and eventually the smile was lost.

_Seven seconds._

She never looked down at the ring, her eyes still riveted on his face, but the besotted idiot on his bended knee did not pay attention to these signs. In his mind, he saw her love reflecting back at him and she was taking her time to let the situation sink in before she gave him her answer. He figured it was shock that caused her pallor to change, and she will see that it was the same Erik, and he wanted her as his wife.

_Ten seconds._

Elena did not say a word. She turned on her heels and drifted away, the door slamming behind her. Only then did Erik stand, confusion on his countenance, and he called out once to her, but no response followed.

_Fifteen seconds._

That's all it took for his life to change forever. Fifteen seconds… but those seconds felt endless when Erik watched her leave him. He kept replaying that scene over and over… the torture of experiencing that broken heart slowly killing him as he sobbed.

Ten minutes and twenty-two seconds passed.

Erik had cried for ten minutes straight and Elena was gone.

Finally, he shakily rose on his feet and replaced the mask on his face… the cool porcelain rubbing and irritating his skin from his tears, but he didn't pay any heed to the pain. He was numb now… he didn't feel anything, except the gaping hole now in his chest.

The black box dropped, the lid shutting over the ring, blocking the hideous stone from his sight.

_What the Hell happened?_

xxXXxx

_February 2009_

He couldn't get her out of his mind.

In his dreams and thoughts—Elena Carlton invaded his mind repeatedly. He couldn't concentrate on his composition not with the tempting blonde flitting across his mind every other second.

He found everything he could on her, reading and watching any interview that came his way, and going through every radio channel just to find her songs…

He couldn't get enough.

Erik was enthralled by her beauty and enamored by her voice. True… the pop lyrics and music were holding her back from her full potential, but he focused solely on her voice, allowing him to transport her to the stage where she could be performing one of his operas. She would be stunning; absolutely breathtaking… she was the woman he was searching to star in his newest masterpiece that had been playing in his mind lately.

Erik had to meet her again. The awards ceremony was not the kind of introduction he wanted them to have, especially with his lack of sobriety. He needed to apologize for his misbehavior and brazen liberties by staring at her person and wanted to show he was a gentleman, capable of being the ideal mate.

It wasn't difficult to find out she had a concert in Las Vegas and it was too easy to snag a ticket and backstage pass. Ironic, maybe… for her to be singing in the city of luck and Erik was testing his luck for making this excursion, but he had to get to know her. It was certainly unconventional (borderline stalking some might say), yet Erik didn't give a damn.

Within twenty-four hours, he was in Sin City and later in the evening he waited backstage for Elena to come off the stage so he could greet her properly. He knew most of the crew were in shock that someone liked him would attend a pop concert since Erik did not hold back his aversion to it. And he was worried that the news would reach Elena and the surprise would be for nothing.

As she reached her final number, Erik could feel the beads of sweat trickling down his neck and back. He was a bundle of nerves… over a woman no less! He never had any fears or concerns over the opposite sex, not when they practically fawned over him, throwing themselves at his feet like a cat in heat. And if he was pursuing a particular woman… she would fall victim to his charms, hardly resisting. Yet, he was nervous over meeting Elena! He knew in his heart she was different and for him to regress to a schoolboy… this had to be love.

At last, the audience of screaming teen girls grew louder to deafening levels and it wasn't long before Elena would be walking his way.

He quickly patted down his clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles, and checked to make sure he didn't crush the rose in his hand. By the time he looked up, Erik saw her walking towards him.

Once again, time seemed to have slowed down and the anxiousness and trepidation gripped him in terror. But he swallowed his insecurities as she approached him, her heart-shaped face scrunched in a peculiar expression—as if she wasn't sure what to make of his appearance to her concert. However, she didn't want to be rude and ignore him with all these people close by, and she stopped a foot away from him. Erik could see the sweat glistening off her face and chest, her blonde hair tumbling out of its braided up-do from the vigorous dancing and singing. She was breathing hard, still trying to catch her breath, and now here she was… standing before him in the flesh and waiting for him to say something.

Erik settled for a smile and held out the rose for her to take. "You were amazing tonight," he said, actually meaning it and not out of politeness.

This caught her off-guard and for a moment… Elena was speechless. But her bewilderment began to dissipate, and she accepted the rose, her own smile blossoming. "Thank you. I didn't think this was your cup of tea."

"It's not," Erik confessed. "But with you… you make it music. Trust me that makes a big difference."

"I suppose so," Elena replied, grinning broadly now. "I appreciate it."

Sensing she was going to end the conversation, Erik knew he had to move quickly otherwise he feared he wouldn't have another chance with her. "Forgive me… but I wanted to apologize about last month. At the award ceremony."

"Oh… you mean the one where you were drunk and wouldn't stop drooling over me?" she asked in light, teasing way.

Erik ran a hand through his hair and chuckled sheepishly. "Yes… I want you to know… that's not me."

"I wouldn't have guessed since you have a habit of public intoxication. That and you certainly have an interesting way in getting a woman's attention. I didn't realize that they enjoyed you half-falling into their chests."

"Well, I…" Erik could feel his neck growing hotter. "No… normally that doesn't happen. But… I…" His voice trailed off and he mentally berated himself for his suave and eloquent manner. That would certainly prove to her he was interested.

But to his astonishment… Elena started to giggle. "I'm sorry. That was mean of me. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that."

"Well… I did deserve it," Erik admitted.

"Can't argue on that one. But you obviously you came all the way out here and it has to be for more than an apology," Elena said. "How about this? Let's forget that didn't happen and let's start anew. Hello… My name is Elena Carlton."

"Erik Trussler," he replied, shaking her hand. "I must tell you Ms. Carlton, you have a divine voice."

"Why thank you. I don't think anyone has ever told me that before."

"Well, it's a damn shame. If you would like… I happen to be staying here for a couple of days and would like to know if you would join me for a late dinner?"

"I would like that very much Erik Trussler," she replied. "By the way, I have to tell you… I am a fan of yours."

"Good. I'm a fan of yours as well."

They shared a chuckle and it was like the old saying went… the rest was history.

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

_Two Days Ago… _

That night had been every romantic cliché all wrapped up in one magical evening. They were out for hours—talking, laughing…

The door slam echoed within the emptiness of his mind.

Alone…

The love of his life walked out on him because of his face.

_His face_…

How strange that time flies by faster when you lost your heart.

Once the shock wore out, Erik flew out to Detroit and hid in his apartment. He couldn't stay in New York. Not after that… Too many memories and he had to get away. But the comfort he was searching for in his home city did not come.

She was gone… Elena walked out and she was never coming back.

He vaguely recalled getting a text from Nadir about how things were going and he wondered if his friend knew what happened. Then he remembered that he had never told Nadir what he had planned to do… to take off the mask and propose… Erik didn't want to jinx the affair and decided it was best to keep it secret so it didn't reach the media.

What a crock that turned out to be.

The second text came and then a third and a fourth. As minutes turned to hours, Nadir's texts were becoming full of concern and he had little choice but to reply back.

He texted the Iranian and told him he was busy on a project and hadn't noticed the text messages until now (which was a truthful action he had done in the past) and was now in Detroit to focus on a new opera.

As expected, Nadir believed it and wanted to know why fly all the way out here to work when he could have stayed in New York? What did Elena have to say?

So Erik made up some bullshit story about a new record she was working on and old college friends wanting to visit Elena and he wasn't in the mood to hang around with them. He would get more work done away from any distractions and here he was.

Nadir bought it, like he knew he would, and was relieved to know that everything was all right. Nadir then let Erik off with a reminder to leave the phone on in case of emergencies.

"You never know what could happen," Nadir said. "And I know how absorbed you can get when working."

The irony was not loss on Erik and he smiled. Of course, that would not occur to the composer until he made the decision about jumping. Right at this moment… he stupidly believed Elena might call him and tell him that she was wrong in walking out and wanted him to come back to New York.

Twenty four hours later… Erik will learn that she had moved on. He would recall the conversation he had with Nadir about the never knowing when an emergency could happen. He would laugh hysterically for a good five minutes and contemplated on calling his friend to tell him of this emergency and decided against it.

No doctor, no medicine in the world could heal his broken heart.

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

He was struggling, fighting to stay afloat.

Every second was a precious one wasted.

He had to fight, he couldn't give up…

Fight, fight, fight.

For what?

Was there a reason why the will to live was suddenly so strong?

A quick flash of brown curl and blue eyes and a voice! A voice whispering, "Come back to me. Come back. Fight!"

Erik was swimming faster… faster to break the surface and—

A blinding light hit his eyes and Erik winced from the sudden pain of it. He opened his mouth, which was very dry, and croaked.

All at once, Erik's vision was clouded with a dark-skinned face and brown eyes, mouth flapping about wildly that Erik didn't recognize who it was at first until a memory… floating close suddenly popped in his head.

"Nadir," Erik said hoarsely. "Water."

The request was difficult to say and it took him a few tries to get it out. Nadir abruptly stood and ran out to get the water. He returned a few minutes later with a Styrofoam cup filled with cool water.

Erik's arm was weak and he had a hard time lifting it to take the cup, but Nadir moved it to his lips so he wouldn't have to strain himself. He sent the Iranian a nasty glare and opened his parched lips for the drink. Right now… he will accept the help, but he was not completely helpless and he will hold his own cup of damn water next time.

He drank thirstily, the refreshing liquid coursed down his throat and he was able to moisten his lips and speak without it cracking as much.

The cup was empty and Nadir set it on a table next to the bed.

"Thanks man," Erik started. "I really needed that—"

His voice trailed off when he saw his friend's tears pouring down his face. Erik was taken aback by this reaction and was uncertain what to say or do. But he didn't have to say anything since Nadir did all the talking for him.

"You no good rotten bastard," Nadir grounded out once the tears stopped. "You cowardly son of a bitch! What the fuck were you thinking? How could you do that? Why would you want to?!"

As Nadir's tone rose, he raised a fist at Erik, shaking uncontrollably. "I could kill you right now. I'm so fucking pissed at you I could seriously strangle you right now or suffocate you with a pillow. But somehow I don't think that would be enough to get my point across. No! I would have to get a nurse to come in to revive you just so I could kill you all over again. Then I'll feel a whole hell of a lot better."

Closing his eyes, Nadir slowly inhaled and exhaled. "As much as I want to, you would be dead and that's not what I want. Fuck Erik. How could you think that suicide is the answer to anything?"

"Sounded like a good idea at the time," Erik said, cringing at the bad joke.

Nadir chuckled uneasily and shook his head. "Now?"

"Now… I wished I didn't think about it," Erik admitted. "Actually, it had been an accident."

"What was?"

"Me falling," he replied. "I was going to. I had every intention to but something changed. I couldn't do it and I was already over the railing and then this girl came flying at me screaming stop and—"

"A girl?" Nadir interrupted.

Erik nodded. "Yeah. I don't know how she got into the apartment in the first place, but there she was charging towards me like her life depended on it and I lost my grip and, well, as you can see, here I am."

"You're one lucky bastard," Nadir said. "An accidental suicide and you are still here. Allah… not too many can talk about that."

Erik grinned but let out a soft hiss. "Damn… did I break every bone?"

"Feels like it, huh? You're in luck—no. But I have no doubt you'll be hurting for months to come. Might be a great reminder that this was a stupid ass decision."

"Accident," Erik corrected.

"Whatever," Nadir said, smirking. "So, let me get this straight. You were going to kill yourself, decided not to, and a girl tries stopping you. Do you know who she was?"

"No. That's the strangest thing. She was there and then… when I was lying on the sidewalk, she was there again. She was urging me to fight, Nadir. I couldn't believe it but she stayed with me in the ambulance. Were it not for her… I don't think I would have made it." Erik tried sitting up but the pain was too much and he resigned to lie down once more.

"I would like to thank her. Has she been back here?"

It was a stretch, wishful thinking on his part that this woman would visit him and wait for his recovery or for him to wake up. Why would a complete stranger even care? But… this woman… she did not seem like a stranger and she remained at his side. Surely, she would be here somewhere, right?

However, the look on Nadir's expression was not the answer he was looking for.

"I see," Erik said softly. "I guess it was too much to hope for, right?"

"Erik," Nadir started slowly. "I hate to tell you this, but there wasn't a woman with you in the ambulance. And the only women to visit you were the nurses. I'm sure Elena would be here, but she didn't answer her phone so I left her a message—"

But Erik cut him off before he could finish, "What do you mean there wasn't a woman with me? There was!"

"Erik, the paramedics who brought you here were both men. Don't you think that someone would have told me that another person drove with you? I came as soon as I heard the news that a masked man was found bleeding to death outside Garner Apartments. It wasn't much to put two and two together on that one. And there was no one but the staff members tending to you when I arrived."

"No." He refused to believe it. He couldn't! "There was someone there! I can describe her to the tee." Erik launched into an immediate description, but judging by Nadir's face, it was apparent that the Iranian did not see anyone matching that description.

The nurse came in to check on him and said that Dr. White would be in here in a few minutes to speak to Mr. Trussler about the next step.

Nadir saw it as his hint that he should leave. Before he did a thought occurred to him.

"You know… it was possible you weren't alone."

"I know I wasn't," Erik said, rolling his eyes.

"I know, I know… but you have to understand that a busy place like a hospital… someone would have seen her if she was there. And it got me thinking. It was possible that you saw a guardian angel."

Erik stared at him like he grew a second head all of a sudden.

"I'm serious. People in a traumatic situation sometimes have seen someone there helping them or encouraging them to hang on. This woman was probably that. She was an angel to provide comfort when you needed it."

"She wasn't an angel," Erik insisted, shaking his head.

Nadir didn't say anything more on it. "I'll be back to see you again. I'm glad you're going to be all right Erik."

He waved to Erik and left.

Yet, it bothered Erik that Nadir was insistent that the woman he saw was an angel. There was no bright light surrounding her or a halo or a chorus or anything of that sort. She was corporeal… he felt her, felt her hand enclosing over his, her warmth spreading to his cold skin.

Nadir was wrong. She was real.

She had to be.

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you everyone for reviewing and for your kind thoughts and prayers. It really means a lot. And… the moment you've been waiting for! Well, you need to read on to see what happens. Don't forget to review!

**Chapter 5**

The following days Erik will later recall would be nothing but pain. His whole body felt like it had been broken and when Dr. White explained the extent of his injuries, Erik felt queasy all over and nearly passed out. Yet, he was determined to get better so he could walk out the doors of the hospital for good.

He hated feeling like a prisoner, trapped, and in a way, he was. He was imprisoned due to his own lack of judgment thanks to his injuries and it would be quite some time before he would be able to walk again. Of course, when Erik demanded they start the physical therapy immediately, Dr. White only shook his head, chuckling, that it would be impossible and that Erik needed to let his body heal before he could stand on his own feet.

So when the doctor wasn't around, Erik did attempt to leave the bed, but the damn Iranian caught him and he had to be strapped down to avoid any more potential harm.

But the worst of all…

Erik was under constant surveillance. He strongly suspected that Nadir insisted on the length of the cameras in the room and the ever watchful nurses while Erik was stuck in bed. Of course, he already made up his mind he wasn't going to do it ever again, but it didn't seem to matter to the rest of the world.

The point remained… he attempted to commit suicide, and as a result of the consequences, he had to be watched in case he should make another go at it. Not only that… he was also subjected to meet and talk to various counselors and therapists about the "incident."

Naturally, they would sugarcoat the situation so not to put the actual word in his mind. Erik refused to speak to anyone who came to his room and told them to go to Hell as well as some other carefully thought out choice words (he needed to do something in his boredom). He went all out to make himself as much of a nuisance and difficult so the hospital would have little choice but to remove him from the premises.

Yet, God had a sense of humor and He made damned sure that Erik remained. Even threatening Nadir didn't seem to work, despite his insistence he was going to sue Dr. White and the rest of the staff for keeping him against his will.

However, it was about a few weeks into his stay that he quickly changed his mind.

Nadir came to visit like always and after Erik's usual protests and insults… his friend told him he had some mail and tossed several envelopes on his chest.

Erik narrowed his eyes at him. "How the fuck I'm I suppose to open these? I'm not allowed a decent fork or knife so what makes you think I might have a letter-opener too?"

Nadir sighed, closing his eyes and sending a quick prayer to Allah for patience. Regardless of what his friend had tried to do, Nadir was grateful for Erik to be alive, but he was quickly thinking of putting him out of his misery. He reached over, picked up the mail, and opened each one. They were all letters and Nadir read aloud the first one.

Suffice to say, the topic was disturbing and disheartening that Erik told him to stop immediately.

Nadir skimmed through the others and told him they were all similar in nature. They were all fans of Erik Trussler's and they all wanted to die.

Apparently, the news of his attempted suicide was no longer a secret and while the world was scratching their heads as to why Erik would contemplate the notion, there were people out there who were hurting and believed that this was the only way to escape their sufferings. A few expressed their regrets that Erik wasn't successful and wished him the best of luck that next time would be better. Some were asking him for advice on what to do. And it wasn't about seeking help either.

Right then, Erik's attitude changed. He couldn't believe that people were that desperate and after Nadir left… he read all of the letters, his disbelief and shock growing each passing second.

For him, it made sense why he would consider suicide. Yet, reading what these people felt… suicide wasn't the answer. Not for them.

Then his mind quickly conjured up the woman who was in the apartment with him. She wanted to save him and she did… for what purpose or reason Erik didn't know. He was still questioning whether or not she was real or not. It seemed that he was the only one who saw her and he couldn't decide if what Nadir had suggested was true. He didn't believe in that celestial crap.

However, what he was holding in his hand was very real and these fans were in a terrible need for help.

It was enough for him to shift gears and the next day… he told Nadir he wanted to speak to someone about his attempted suicide.

"I think I do need help Nadir. It took me some time to realize that, but I'm ready to do what I have to do to get better."

This request caught Nadir off guard. He was pleased and stunned by the sudden turn of events.

"Okay Erik. I'll get Dr. White to find—"

"No," Erik interrupted. "I don't want anyone from the hospital. They can't even say the damn word in front of me. No. I want someone who is not afraid of me or what I have done."

Nadir nodded. "Very well. I'll check into it. Gotta say Erik… I'm glad you're doing this."

"Don't thank me," Erik muttered. "But can you do me another favor? I want you to take those letters I received and write back to them. Tell them exactly what I'm doing and that I strongly advise that they follow my example and seek professional help. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good." That eased his mind considerably. "And hold a press conference too? Since the whole world knows what I have done, it only makes sense to make sure they're aware of what I'm about to do."

xxXXxx

_Four Months Later_

"Ah, it's good to finally be home!" Erik sighed as he opened the door to his apartment. It felt quite liberating to be within his own sanctuary once more. No more hospitals, no more doctors, and no more babysitters. Well, scratch that last one. Nadir was his babysitter, but at least he was alone and didn't have the Iranian attached to his hip.

Closing the door, Erik let out a soft grunt as his legs ached from the walking he did to get to his apartment. Perhaps taking the stairs wasn't the best decision, but Erik needed to continue exercising them and he wanted them to be stronger. He hated being as helpless as he was and this was the only way he could think of to make sure he would never end up in that situation ever again.

Of course, it was enough to remind him what he almost did.

_Never again_, he told himself.

Physically, Erik was certainly on the mend. His physical therapist was impressed by the dedication and the speedy recovery he made. Erik really worked hard to make sure he could walk and he did… but he did throw away the cane that they insisted he should use. Erik managed well without it much to their astonishment; although, he wasn't out of the woods yet. He still had to be careful and he was told (numerous times) not to put too much strain on his legs.

As the ache gave way to a low throb, Erik quickly took his bags to his room and sat down on the bed just to rest. Relief was immediate and Erik gripped the mattress as he took a deep breath.

After a few minutes, he tested himself by standing up. There was pressure in his ankles, but at the moment, he wasn't in pain.

He put on his slippers to make his feet a little more comfortable and went back out into the living room.

Yes… physically he was very well. As to the state of his emotional and mental well-being… that could be debated.

He still was upset over his breakup with Elena and he felt like that was never going to go away. The pain was fresh in his heart and whenever he thought back to that moment as the door closed for good… Erik swallowed hard and forced his thoughts elsewhere. He couldn't go back there.

Not now.

He wasn't ready to accept the finality of it, but as the time passed suggested… there was little choice to ignore the denial.

Elena wasn't coming back.

It wasn't a conclusion that came easy to him. Instead, it was the numerous sessions he had with Dr. Giry that made sure he wouldn't forget.

Antoinette Giry was one of the best therapists in her field to the stars and Nadir spared no expense in flying her out to Detroit to help Erik as he requested. She was a tough, old bird when Erik first met her—a take-no-prisoner and spare-me-the-melodramatic-crap attitude. Her approach was often considered controversial since she did not tread delicately or respond with careful sensitivity with her patients. She spoke blatantly and did not censor her opinion, especially since her patients were celebrities.

She didn't care about the stress of fame or the excuses to take that particular drug or drink to help the person do their job. To her… that was a poor bullshit of an explanation for the behavior.

Since their first meeting, Erik immediately admired her. Dr. Giry was a tall, thin woman with pepperish white hair, piercing gray eyes, and sharp and angular features. She had this stern expression plastered on her face and one that Erik would come to recognize as her default expression. Despite the obvious hardened persona… Antoinette Giry was an excellent listener and her observations and analysis allowed him to understand himself better.

Although, begrudgingly.

Erik didn't have to say a word when she automatically pinpointed his reasons for suicide was over a woman. He was rendered speechless with her apparent conclusion even before they started the session. Erik had not told anyone why he was going to jump, not even Nadir knew yet, although it was something he couldn't hide forever. However, he strongly suspected that his old friend was putting it together since Elena had not come to visit Erik nor did she return any of Nadir's messages in the time he had spent in the hospital.

But this Dr. Giry… she knew without having to ask him any questions. When Erik asked her how she knew. She gave him a knowing look and gruff chuckle. "Because in a man with your position… it is always a woman. That and I could see in your eyes that you experienced an incredible amount of pain. Only a woman could inflict that much upon a man."

At that point, Erik knew he wouldn't be able to hide anything from her if he tried. She was sharp as a hawk and she never missed a thing when it came to body language and his words, even if he tried to underplay a recollection from his childhood or a recent memory. She hopped onto it, grasping it tightly, so that Erik had little choice but to explore deeper into his memories and discover the reason why he felt that suicide was his only choice.

He spoke about his parents, their love and protection, and the sorrow of losing them in that horrific tragedy. He told her how he turned to alcohol and his work in order to forget the pain. Erik did leave out the part about the unusual activity in his apartment, but the main focus was his time in New York and Elena.

About a week into their sessions, Dr. Giry had asked if he would remove his mask for her. Erik told her no and for her to mind her own fucking business. But she persisted every time they met and at the end of every session if he would take off his mask. And Erik's answer would always be the same: **no**.

He wasn't happy to know that Nadir did see his face and that some hospital workers saw him too. Never mind the fact they had to remove the mask to help tend to his injuries. Erik was vulnerable and he didn't like the helplessness it left him knowing his face was exposed to so many people in a short amount of time. Of course, his fears were unsubstantiated since no one leaked to the public what he looked like. Dr. White had not been kidding when he said he ran a tight ship and his staff kept Erik's privacy the way it should be kept… private.

Not even Nadir seemed to be bothered by his deformity. He simply told Erik that he sure was ugly and he couldn't believe that Erik bedded more women than he. There was no judgment, no disgust. Nadir accepted him like he always had and nothing had changed. As if he never saw his face to begin with.

While that did help nurse the scars in his insecurities about his face, Erik was still wounded over the fact that Elena was not as accepting as Nadir was or the hospital staff.

He would later find out that Elena did an interview with some entertainment magazine and she briefly mentioned the incident. She said she was sorry to hear about her ex's attempted suicide and wished him a speedy recovery and he was in her prayers.

But there had not been any attempt to reach out to him. No phone call, not even a letter or an email to wish him luck or to say I'm sorry or anything.

Of course, this was unknown to the public.

Erik thought about making a statement and contradicting everything she had said about him, how she never visited or spoke to him and how she was so closed-minded that she would throw away what they had shared because she was shallow and vain and self-centered.

Appearances did matter the most to her and what a heyday it would be with the reporters if they knew what kind of heartless bitch she was.

As tempting and delicious it would be to get back at her, Erik knew it would do no good. For one, he would have to provide a reason for these remarks and she could easily come forward to describe what his face looked like.

And that was the thing.

He was a coward for not wanting to tell the truth or let it be known.

He could face his critics over his music, he could face the judgments and comments of his suicide, but when it came to his face… Erik curled up inside himself.

And it was for this reason that Dr. Giry was pushing him to remove his mask. If he could show her, then it would be a huge leap for his wellbeing and to be more accepting with his lot.

He was not ready. Even if nothing tragic occurred when his mask was taken off when he was unconscious… Erik could not remove the one barrier that gave him the confidence he needed and the shield to protect himself from society. He may have wealth and fame, but underneath it all, Erik Trussler was an ordinary man with ordinary feelings and it was the level of vulnerability he was not ready to show to his adoring public or the rest of the world.

The mask was a symbol, a part of his persona and character.

Dr. Giry found his overwhelming sense of protection interesting and somewhat amusing. As much respect and admiration he had for the older woman, Erik had his moments where he despised her and had occasionally walked out on a session. But he still came back when he was supposed to for his next appointment.

After a couple of months, Erik felt he didn't need to attend anymore sessions. However, Dr. Giry and even Nadir felt otherwise. One being that since he had attempted suicide he was still considered a high risk for another attempt during the first year of being released.

The idea was preposterous and Erik wasn't in danger, but according to the statistics, it was possible he could try again. At least, that was how Nadir justified it. Never mind that Erik was unlike most people and he proved he could be a good boy when left alone with an accidental sharp object in the same room.

Not only that but Dr. Giry wouldn't let him go either.

It didn't matter what Erik said, she wouldn't let him go as her patient at least until she was wholly satisfied that he was no longer in the danger zone.

Translation: remove the mask for her to see.

Erik thought about suing but when he saw the stack of letters from those fans who wanted to kill themselves, he knew he couldn't be that selfish and continued the weekly sessions even though it was the last thing on his mind.

After he received that first set of letters, Erik had Nadir write in his stead until he was able to write on his own. Over the course of the four months, Erik received hundreds of letters from people who were in a serious need for help. He urged all of them to seek medical attention and talk to someone they trusted. He explained to them that what he did was a mistake and that nothing was worth taking your life.

He did receive replies back from those who did what he suggested and got the help they needed. Those who hadn't… he only hoped they didn't take the no-turning-back road. There was no way of knowing for certain, but Erik could only trust they made the right decision or will make the right one.

As progress was being made, there was one other thing that often visited his thoughts.

The brown-haired woman.

Erik did share with Dr. Giry what he saw recently and how Nadir suggested she was a guardian angel. He assumed the good doctor would scoff at the idea since she didn't appear to be the type to believe in those kinds of things. Yet, she proved to astonish him once more and told him that his friend could be right. The woman could have very well been an angel sent as a sign to tell Erik his time was not now.

After that session, he decided to keep his musings about the mysterious woman to himself. He knew that she was not an angel… well, an angel in a heavenly sense. She was beautiful, a divine creature that Erik could not shake from his mind.

There was something about her… something he couldn't put his finger on. It bothered him that he couldn't rationalize or come up with some kind of conclusion that would appease him on the subject.

Even now as he wandered over to his piano, he couldn't shake his thoughts away about her. Taking his spot, he glided his fingers across the keys, pressing down on a couple of notes, allowing the music to caress his ears.

It had been too long since he physically touched an instrument.

"Hello old friend," Erik spoke quietly, tenderly touching the piano as if it were a baby. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

He played a short little ditty to whet the appetite, to ease the craving inside of him. Then it turned towards the overture for _Don Juan Triumphant _and he immediately stopped. Just a single thought about the opera reminded him of Elena, his hopeful Aminta, and knew that the wish was never going to happen. She had been the perfect vision of his tragic heroine.

Now…

No other woman would do.

He hated the idea of having to shelf his opera, but he had little choice since he could not have who he really wanted. Without his Aminta then there could be no Don Juan.

It didn't matter that he had yet to broach the subject to Elena before she left him. He knew he would have been able to talk her into doing at least one show. That's all he wanted… one show to see her sing the way she was born to do.

He contemplated on whether he should stop but something in him wanted to keep playing.

So Erik started playing one of his other operas and as the music flowed around him… he started to envision the woman that had been haunting him:

The long, chocolate brown curls bouncing over her shoulders and around her snowy white and porcelain face; lips a full pink color; and wide crystal blue eyes that stood out from her dark eyelashes. Her voice, a soft chime, but had a sharp alarm in her tone as she ran towards him… her hand, petite and delicate, yet strong as she grasped his hand tightly, warming his flesh. Those piercing blue eyes staring deeply into his as she pleaded for him to fight, to not give up, to live…

Perhaps, she had been a figment of his imagination.

A wild, fantastic product of his mind to believe that a woman cared that much for his well-being; a woman that should have been Elena, but when the real thing was not there…

It made sense in a rather pitiful and pathetic way.

"What a shame," Erik said softly, "that she couldn't be real. At least her concern seemed to be earnest. Although, I cannot believe that she was a guardian angel that everyone keeps insisting. There is no way that God would deem me that important to be saved. But I bet it would make one great celestial joke to make the deformed musician think he was worth something. To give him hope only to snatch all possible happiness from him."

Letting out a loud exhale, Erik chuckled. "Listen to me. Talking to myself. Just another potential sign that I could be insane. Ghosts, angels, what's next? Bigfoot living under my nose all along?"

As he continued laughing, shaking his head, Erik began to turn around and came face to face with the brown-haired woman.

TBC…


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you everyone for reviewing! Yeah… the last chapter was a bad author's note. This is the exact moment you been waiting for. And I'm glad a lot of you liked Dr. Giry. She will be making an appearance throughout the story. After all… Erik needs someone like her to keep him in check. Don't forget to review!

**Chapter 6**

For a brief moment, they stared at one another until:

"Holy shit!" Erik yelled, stumbling back and tripping on the leg of the piano bench. Pain ripped through his body as he landed on his ass _hard_. He felt a cool touch and looked up to see her hovering over him, concern and laughter in her eyes. "Oh fuck!" he yelled again.

He kicked out at her, scrambling on his hands and feet to get away from the strange woman. It wasn't until his back hit the wall when Erik realized he was trapped as she began to move towards him, a beaming smile taking over her lips.

"You see me? Oh my God! Tell me you see me!" she pleaded excitingly, her blue eyes sparkling like two gems. "Tell me!" she exclaimed louder.

"I see you!" Erik responded, his voice quivering just a bit. "I fucking see you!"

To his utter astonishment, she let out a squeal (yes… a freaking squeal) and jumped up and down enthusiastically.

"I can't believe it!" she cried. "I cannot believe it! You see me! You actually see me!"

She ran to him and fell to her knees, her face close to his as if inspecting to make sure he could, in fact, see her. His body immediately tensed and Erik held his breath as she was too close for comfort, and then jumped when she let out another bloodcurdling squeal.

Standing on her feet, she clapped her hands. "I cannot believe this! You see me and you can hear me! This is unbelievable! This is amazing! This is—"

"Completely fucked up," Erik interrupted, but she did not seem to hear him as she went on and on about how wonderful and fantastic this is. While she was occupied with her fervor, Erik could not take his eyes off this unhinged and raving lunatic. She obviously had issues if she thought Erik could not see her and he wondered two things: one, how in the world did she get into the apartment without him catching her (and… was she somehow living here without him knowing?) and two, could he make his escape by carefully crawling to the door so he could get to the police?

Maybe the white coats too.

Seizing the opportunity as she was otherwise engaged with her cries of joy, Erik quietly began to move away from her and used the furniture as a shield. He was close, about three feet away, when she somehow materialized in front of him, her legs blocking his view.

"Come on silly," she said, giggling. "Get up. I'm not going to hurt you."

He had to bite his tongue as she bent down to reach for his hands when her solid hand went through him.

_Went right through him_.

His eyes widened as he leapt to his feet. The girl frowned and then let out a sheepish chuckle. "Sorry. I—"

"Get away from me!" he hissed. "Who… what are you? You know what? No, I don't want to know. I have to leave."

"No!" she exclaimed, darting to block his path and for a couple of seconds, it was a dance of side to side as he tried to move around her and she kept blocking him. Then something in him snapped and he strode forward and…

He walked through her. He fucking walked through her. Just like her hand…

"Please don't go Erik," she whispered.

His spine went rigid. Slowly, he turned around and breathing heavily, he said, "What did you call me?"

"Erik," she replied, a little more slowly to make sure he understood, as her brow creased.

He shook his head once. "No… it's impossible."

"Not really," she answered. "We are kind of… roommates if you will."

"Stop!" He raised a shaky finger at her, and the next word at the tip of his tongue was to order her out… but something made him stop. This was the same woman he had seen before he fell… the same woman who urged to fight for his life and who stayed at his side…

And the same woman he had walked through as if she was nothing.

Because she was…

"A ghost," she supplied and shrugged. "I thought I would help speed up the process."

"You're a ghost," he repeated stupidly. "You're a ghost."

"Yup," she said with a nod. "A ghost. And you can keep repeating it if you like if it makes it easier to grasp."

"I must be dreaming… that or I'm hallucinating." He covered his eyes.

Once more, the soft and cool feeling brushed against his fingers and he felt his hands lower to his side.

"I'm real," she continued. "Closing your eyes and wishing this will go away won't work. Trust me… I wish that is all it was."

Her presence was again too close to his liking and Erik's shoulders were tense. She noticed this and backed away to give them space. She smiled, albeit sadly, this time. "I'm sorry if I did frighten you. That was never my intention. Then again… I never thought you would actually see or hear me. I guess today is full of surprises, huh?"

"Um… yes." His mind was still in a state of mental shock. "A ghost. I have a ghost in my apartment."

"In all fairness… I was here first. So technically, this is my apartment, but since you are the one living… I have to concede that in a way it belongs to you."

"I must be out of my fucking mind." Erik wearily rubbed his visible eye and went to sit down before he felt anymore fainter than he already did.

She waited calmly as he continued to mutter to himself about ghosts and drinks and such until she finally lost her patience.

"You know it is rude to ignore other people in your presence, even if they happen to be deceased. And I'm desperate for conversation here. Plus, I'm not a total stranger. We have met before."

"You were here that night," Erik said. "You helped me."

She pressed her lips together and nodded. "I did. Good thing too. I don't know what it was… but nothing is worth taking your life."

"You're right. You don't know," he growled.

"Clearly a touchy subject," she muttered. "Look, Erik… I don't want to argue. Not when you're the first person ever…and I mean **ever** that I have spoken to since—and I would like to enjoy the moment as long as I can. This is a big deal for me. I have tried for so long and you were the only one to recognize that someone was here."

"Come again?"

She sighed. "Since I… well, since I have been a ghost… I have been trying to make contact. Anyone who has step foot into this apartment has neither heard nor seen me nor attempted to contact me when I try to make myself known."

"It was you…" he murmured in awe, the flood of past memories coming back. All those strange disturbances and incidents… that had been her trying to contact him?

"Yes. I'm sorry by the way for the wine. But, you were drinking a tad too much."

He ignored her comment and shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe it."

"Yeah. When you called out to me, I tried to answer, but there was this—block sort of speak. I don't think you were ready to see me and as loud as I shouted and waved my hands in front of your face… you did not acknowledge me. It wasn't until that moment on the balcony that you were about to jump that something happened to make it work. And here I am. Here _we_ are… having a conversation." She smiled again, this time a brighter one.

"Right—uh, what is your name?" Erik asked.

She slapped her hand to her forehead. "I forgot! Wow… how rude of me not to introduce myself. I'm Christine. Christine Daaé."

"Christine?" At this her head bobbed up and down eagerly.

"I have to admit… hearing your name from another person is way better than saying it to yourself. I honestly wasn't expecting it. Then again, I wasn't expecting any of this to ever happen. It's nice," Christine said, her cheeks flushing pink.

Could ghosts blush?

Erik was certainly rethinking his view on everything in life at this very surreal moment. Of course, it was easy to forget she was a ghost. She didn't look like one. Of course, he had no clue on what ghosts really looked like. He was expecting her to be transparent, perhaps, have a tail or something like Casper. She looked solid, except for the incident with her hand and when he passed through her.

She was staring at him when she realized he wasn't paying attention and she tilted her head to the side, wondering what captivated him so. "Mind sharing with the class what it is?"

"What?"

"You have a million things on your face that you want to say. I can tell. Go on. I'm all ears."

"You're a ghost."

"We have established that. Many times in fact," Christine said.

"It's just… you… I can't see through you."

"Why? You want to?" Then in front of his eyes, her form began to shimmer and her once human like appearance faded until she was transparent. "Is this better?"

No… it wasn't.

In a second, she was back to her original appearance. "I thought so."

"You can control that?"

"Yes. Just like holding things. It takes a lot of concentration, but I can feel and move solid objects. Not with my mind. I tried. But I can push things."

"That's… interesting."

"Wait and see. I have a bunch of party tricks up my sleeves. Of course, I'm not going to spoil the evening and show every single one. You have to wait." She winked.

"I can't believe this is real," Erik said. "Are you positive this isn't a dream?"

"Want me to pinch you?" she offered.

"No," he said quickly. "It was a rhetorical question."

"Oh." Christine looked down at her hands and then back at him. "Are you going to be all right? I mean… with this?"

"Do I have a choice?" he questioned.

"Well, you do," she replied. "You can move out, but I rather you didn't. I don't know if the next person will be receptive as you."

"That's not… yeah I guess… but why should I? I mean, my name is on the lease. You're an unpaid renter. Don't you have to—I don't know—move on to the great beyond?"

"You don't want me to stay?" Christine asked, her tone sounding actually _hurt. _It was like as if the idea never occurred to her.

"I just thought… when you were dead you…" Erik's voice trailed off.

"You don't believe that. I have heard enough conversations between you and your friend that you don't believe in this. Of course, I guess you're converted now that you met a real ghost."

"Can you stop that? I'm still processing the fact you have been living with me all this time. I don't want to know what you have seen or heard or…"

"Done." She smirked. "I'll pretend I have never eavesdropped on you or anything. Not that I did all the time like I'm some crazy ghost stalker. I am quite respectful of your privacy. It's that if I heard something of interest… well, I have always been curious, and—" Seeing the look he was given her, Christine ended, "I'm shutting up now."

"Yup and I had to be stuck with a talkative ghost," Erik said, rolling his eyes. "Christine, right? Christine… this was nice. Really. I'm glad if I fulfilled some void or something like that, but I have things to do. I'm sure you don't want to stick around either. Go whenever you're ready… go on and go wherever that next place is for us. It was nice meeting you and I won't forget this or what you have done to help me recover. You did what you have to and I'm good. No more jumping off balconies for me. Not anymore."

Christine didn't respond. During his speech, she lowered her face and he couldn't see what was on her features, but there was no mistaking the shudder of her shoulders.

"Christine? Oh Christ… look, I didn't mean… you have to understand…"

Her face jerked up and Erik ceased speaking when he saw the tears glistening in her eyes.

"I understand clearly," she said softly. "I would love to. Really, I would. It would definitely be better than roaming around alone for the rest of eternity. But the thing is… I can't. So you asking me to 'move on' isn't going to work. So if this whole thing is going to be an inconvenience, I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

She rose and wiped away her phantom tears. "I'll leave you be." Her form started to shimmer once more and he watched in shock as she began to fade from his sight.

"Wait!" he called. "I didn't mean it like that. I had no idea…"

Her shape reappeared. "I'm not going anywhere," she replied curtly. "You're all I have for company and I'm going to take advantage of it for as long as I can. Besides, next to me, you're one of the loneliest people I have ever met. I'm only going because you have a guest."

"Guest? What guest?"

But she was gone and there came a knock at the door.

Erik looked over to it in amazement. How could she have known?

Well, there was a lot for him to learn about this Christine Daaé. Oddly… there was something familiar about that name.

Yet, Erik didn't have time to muse over it and he went over to see who this unannounced guest was.

TBC…

I know how crazy Christine sounds at first… but keep in mind… she's been dead for over two years and that whole time… she never once had the opportunity to speak to another person. I would be jumping at the bit and I wouldn't shut up if I were her. So go ahead… feed a starving writer with your comments.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Wow! You guys rock! And welcome all new readers! I'm glad that many of you loved last chapter… it was certainly a lot of fun writing. Let's face it… Erik has scared the crap out of Christine enough times so it's good to get a little payback in. I'm posting this early because I have a forensics tournament all day tomorrow so wish my 1 person team luck! Don't forget to review! Already… I can hear the loud gasps that will follow at the very end.

**Chapter 7**

The knocking became impatient rapping as Erik hurried to answer the door. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to find who it was on the other side.

"Hey Nadir. Man, it seems like I haven't seen you in… I don't know… two hours ago."

"And he's back," Nadir muttered, shaking his head. "I did say I would be stopping over."

"Yeah but not this soon," Erik retorted as he let the other man inside. Closing it behind him, Erik raised his brow at him quizzically. "So what brings you around?"

"I thought I would see how you were settling in," Nadir said.

"Well, as you can see, I settled in quite nicely." Erik shoved his hands into his pockets and went over to the kitchen. "Water?"

"No thanks."

Erik looked over his shoulder and his brow only deepened as Nadir remained in the center of the room, looking but not looking at him. "What?" he barked.

"Nothing," Nadir answered but the glare he was receiving meant it wasn't a good enough answer. Sighing, Nadir decided to skip the niceties. "Okay, I really wanted to make sure you were fine. By yourself."

"And I'm still in one piece," Erik said, uncapping his water bottle. "I have been alone on my own for some time now Nadir. I don't need a babysitter anymore. The danger's over."

"Yeah, you say that and you have been alone, but it's not the same," Nadir replied curtly. "I'm glad you got the help that was offered. Really, I am. I thought we would have to drag you kicking and screaming or something, but you accepted it right away. You really turned over a new leaf."

"Yup and every time a bell rings another suicide has been thwarted," Erik mumbled. "Honestly, Nadir. You keep bringing this up and I won't think twice jumping off that balcony again."

"It's not funny Erik," Nadir said, growing angry. "Don't joke like that."

"You have to lighten up, man," Erik said. "I learned my lesson and I won't ever do it again. I have told you and the doctors this. I have been working to get over my issues and I feel better than ever. You're the one that insistently starts this."

"Yes because I'm your friend—"

"Some friend. Has to be a redundant nanny."

"Shut up!" Nadir's voice thundered, which forced Erik to stop what he was doing. He never heard the Iranian raise his voice like that before, not even at the theater when he's trying to get the attention of the cast. He had little choice but to do what he said.

"You might not care and you may think that everything is hunky-dory, but it's not for me. I was so goddamn scared you were dead that night. I didn't know what to do or why this happened or anything and I have been your best friend for over ten years! I should have known something, but I didn't. I thought I was some fucking awful friend not to realize that you were suffering. Like I could have done something to help you. I don't ever want to go through that again. So forgive me if you think I'm being annoying or a nanny. I want to be sure that tomorrow when I wake… I will see my best friend."

Erik lowered his head in shame. After all the bullshit Nadir had put up with over the years, the least he could do was cut him some slack. He never knew that was how Nadir felt. Not once in the four months during his recovery had Nadir mentioned how he felt himself about the suicide attempt. All he knew that Nadir was mad at him, but he didn't know how far that anger went.

"Nadir, I… I know I have been an ass, but I don't want to keep bringing it up." Erik looked up at him. "Do you get it?"

"What I don't get is why Erik," Nadir replied. "I don't know what drove you to that desperation. All I can think about it either had to do with your parents—"

"It wasn't my parents," Erik interjected.

"… or Elena or your face. And I don't think it had to do all that much with your face since you would have done something sooner than this, which leaves only Elena. I don't know what the Hell happened between the two of you or why she ignores my messages or why she keeps going to the media to say she has been visiting when she hasn't. And I don't know why you haven't stepped forward and called her out on being such a fucking liar. It's not you to let that slide."

"Look, Nadir, I don't want to talk about it yet," Erik said. "But what Elena and I do is no one's business but our own. Rest assured we are not getting back together in the foreseeable future. Not ever."

"I've heard that before," Nadir smirked and walked past him to get that water after all. "It always works out for you guys."

"This is different Nadir," Erik told him as he sat down on the couch. "This time I don't want to see her ever again."

Nadir paused before taking a sip of his water. He thought about pushing it further, to see what had transpired between the two former lovers, but thought best not to. As much as he wanted to know the reason why his friend was so depressed, he knew pushing him too far wouldn't be wise and the last thing he wanted to do was reopen old wounds and give him another reason for maybe trying again.

"Later," Nadir said a promise that they would speak on this again in the future and Erik better not omit anything.

Erik agreed for it would keep Nadir happy in the meantime. "If you don't mind, I think I might rest for a while. I'll see you tomorrow."

Nadir nodded. "All right. Tomorrow." Erik showed him out but before he left, Nadir added, "Call me. If you need anything. Don't hesitate."

"I won't. Night Nadir," Erik said.

"Night."

"Hey, Nadir?" Erik called before he got too far down the hall. Catching up to him, he asked, "Does the name Christine Daaé mean anything to you?"

Nadir frowned. "I don't think so. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Erik replied. "I just thought you might know."

"No. Afraid not," Nadir said.

"All right then. I'll see you later." Erik went back to the apartment and he had half-expected Christine to reappear, but she didn't. He wondered if she was still mad at him for suggesting she'd leave.

Taking a deep breath, he went to the fridge and pulled out a frozen dinner from the freezer. A quick and simple meal was what he needed and as he sat down to eat… he couldn't stop himself from glancing at his cell phone.

Nadir was right.

He should have said something about Elena, but he couldn't find it in himself to fight about it. Of course, a part of him wanted to know why she hadn't visited. Was it still because of his face? Was it still so awful and the memory too fresh for her to be in the same room as he?

He picked up the phone and scrolled through the list of his contacts. Elena's name appeared and his thumb hovered over the call option.

What would he say? Hey, I'm alive and well. You probably heard on the news and I wanted to let you know so you didn't have to worry if I hadn't spoken to you.

Even that was a horribly lame excuse.

He closed his phone and set it back down as his thoughts turned back to the ghostly woman he now had as a roommate.

Christine.

It was a nice name and she seemed sincere in her concern about him, but why? Why did she care if he lived or died? Despite what she said earlier, they were practically strangers. He didn't know anything about her and she only knew about him from his time living in the apartment. It wasn't much to base on, but she acted like she knew him very well.

Then again…

This whole situation was unconventional and bizarre. What does a person do when a ghost lives with him or her? Erik doubted there were handbooks or guides on how to handle a ghostly roommate. Crazy and messy ones, yes… but a ghost?

Part of him wondered if this was some elaborate hoax with very convincing special effects with the walking through her body and her hand. But even he had to admit that was preposterous and too outlandish to conceive.

So… what was this then?

And what is the story on this Christine Daaé?

She may have all the appearance of someone innocent, but he didn't know her and he didn't know if she was a compulsive liar or if she had some kind of ulterior motive. Maybe she had contacted other people before and they weren't able to do whatever it was she wanted. So in enters Erik Trussler with everything a person could ever hope for, and why not taunt him a little with some tricks and then show up at his lowest point? Maybe even save him… He would certainly feel indebted, right?

Yet, what purpose would a ghost have to do such a thing? She clearly wouldn't be able to blackmail him. After all, what is the use of money to a dead person?

So what was her game?

However, as much as he tried to figure out a reason, the more torn Erik felt about the situation. On one side, the manipulating factor could be possible while the flip side did not seem likely. She didn't seem the type, but then again, he thought the same about Elena and looked what happened there.

"_I can't move on…"_

There was definite anguish in that tone and in her eyes when she uttered those words. Perhaps… she wanted to move on and something was keeping her back. He knew as much that she had to have been a ghost for over two years. That is a long time to be waiting for some sign to be welcomed to the next plane.

And being alone.

Damn.

He knew what it was like to be lonely, even when there were people in your life. No one ever knew him or understood his pain or the wish to look normal.

Somehow, he had to assent that Christine had it worse than him. He had Nadir (as irritating and bothersome he can often be) while she had no companion at all. Not even another ghost.

It was possible she might have some kind of unfinished business. That would make sense.

Still… he would have to talk to her again. Find out more about whom she is and if she's expecting something from him in return.

xxXXxx

_Five Years Ago…_

_May 2007_

Erik closed his eyes, not even attempting to disguise his cringe, as the twenty-something girl was belting out a note that was obviously out of her range.

Auditions were taking place at the Trussler Opera House for the upcoming season. Erik had fired about half the chorus as they either gotten too lazy, too off-key, or lost the ability to keep in time with the dancing. He had spent the past couple of days either dismissing or being force to hire the singers and dancers that was passable, but not exactly perfect.

It was a long two days.

So far, Erik had been hoping that this latest group would be different, but no one was able to amaze him. Or the very latest wow him.

Before the girl could repeat that same note, Erik held up his hand effectively cutting her off.

"Thank you for the Mariah Carey rendition. I think we're done," he said, meaning that she was not going to be part of his Opera.

Yet, the message wasn't clear and she smiled and gushed with her thanks.

_Mental note_, Erik thought. _Send that one a letter explaining she wasn't hired._

"I don't know. I thought she was rather pleasant," Nadir commented, which rewarded him a glare.

"This is why I pick the singers and not you. She's gorgeous, yes, but she lacks talent. If she is going to perform in my work, then she better be up to par," Erik said.

"I thought you were some hot shot playboy," Nadir retorted.

"I am," Erik replied, smirking devilishly. "But when it comes to music, in particular, my music, then she better have more than a pretty face for me to put her on that stage. Next!"

The following auditions were all right. Erik found a couple of strong men who would hold their own with the other basses and tenors, not to mention who were able to dance. The girls were a different story.

He still had at least several spots to fill and while time was running out, he had to make a quick decision.

He decided that this one cute blonde might work. She was a very good dancer, but her singing wasn't going to make the heavens weep. Yet, she did have a nice voice and it didn't hurt his eardrums, which counted a lot.

Erik jotted down a note next to #45 Meg G. and called out for the next number: #52.

"Really Erik… do you have to write over the top diva on that last one?" Nadir questioned.

Erik shrugged. "I call it when I see it. Face it, Nadir. That one had trouble written all over her face. Did you notice how she strutted on the stage like she owned it? This is for a chorus spot, not the lead role."

"Seems to me that she had self-confidence."

"And this is why I'm the musical genius and you're my lackey. That one would drive us insane with off the wall demands. Even her name sounds like a prima donna—Carlotta Giudicelli. I don't ever want to see her again."

Nadir rolled his eyes. "Quit being a drama queen and pick the final chorus members so we can call it a day. My ass is getting sore from sitting for so freaking long."

"Can't rush perfection," Erik muttered as he lifted his eyes to see a petite young woman walking with a slight nervous gait, but there was a confident determination in her countenance. In first appearances, there was nothing remarkably striking about her features, except she did have natural beauty and grace with that wild halo of curly brown hair and piercing blue eyes.

This waif coolly took center stage and directly sought contact from Erik.

She had spunk Erik could tell and he had a feeling this was going to be interesting. Maybe she had talent or maybe she thought she could fit Erik Trussler's standards. Either way, Erik was ready to get this over and done with so he could hopefully call it a day too.

"All right. Mr. Reyer? Go ahead and start on 8."

TBC…


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I know it's late but with tournaments, grading, and a grant I just undertook for someone… it's been insane! Good news is that I have spring break next Friday so I'm planning on more time to write this story. So while I'm slaving away (and slowly losing my mind) please send the reviews! It makes me happy. Thank you everyone for reviewing and thank you for the good lucks on the last tournament! We didn't make it, but the good news is that my student will qualify for States since he has received the highest scores within our region. Whoot! This is mainly a filler but it will start explaining some things. As for chapter 9, I'm hoping to get that posted immediately this weekend so you won't have to wait for long.

**Chapter 8**

_Present Time_

Erik was standing in the back of the theatre, his arms crossed over in front of his chest as he leaned against the wall as rehearsals for _The Veil of Illusion_ were underway. No matter how times this opera has been performed, the actors still did a shitty job when it came to practicing. Erik expected nothing but perfection and while some of the veterans grumbled about the constant drilling, Erik was justified since they obviously needed to rehearse.

He winced as the lead soprano, Virginia, once again missed the note again. She knew it too, judging from the look on her face, and stopped mid-way to ask Reyer to start over.

That's what made the decision in hiring her as the best one for the theatre. She had been the leading lady for the past three seasons and she has not let that get to her head. Virginia worked hard in her position, always rehearsing and always correcting her mistakes. Like Erik, she expected only perfection from herself and it was evident in her performances.

But… it did not exempt her from making the occasional error once in a while… or in this case, a half dozen. However, she was the best damn soprano he had heard and he was pleased he had picked her up before someone else could. At least, she didn't make any outrageous demands and she didn't have a diva attitude unlike her predecessor.

Carlotta Giudicelli.

He scowled at the thought of that name. Erik was not at all happy when he discovered that Andre and Firmin went behind his back and hired the harpy after he left. Apparently, they thought she had talent. Incompetent fools. What had he been thinking when he left those two in charge?

Oh yes… he had been drunk and it sounded like a good idea at the time.

Well, the mistakes had been corrected and Erik was feeling better than ever that the theatre could continue to grow stronger.

Virginia was approaching that elusive note and Erik braced himself… Ah… she hit it.

He closed his eyes, smiling softly to himself, as the rest of the music continued to swell and the rest of the scene went on without a hitch. Now this… this was serenity and this was what real opera was all about.

Once Act II wrapped up, Reyer called for a thirty-minute break before starting Act III. Erik opened his eyes in time to see Virginia give him a thumb's up on that last part. Grinning, Erik nodded to her.

She was a sweet girl and very beautiful. A stunning beauty with long red hair, bright hazel eyes, slender built, and not to mention, a good head on her shoulders.

He certainly would have added her as one of his conquests; in fact, he had been tempted when he and Elena were going through a rough patch. Yet, Virginia gave him a very polite "thanks, but no thanks." She didn't want to jeopardize her reputation or her integrity and that only made his admiration for her increase tenfold. She was a real treasure and there was no chance in Hell he would risk losing a talented singer to his competitors. They had a wonderful working relationship and that was it.

_Come to think of it_… he mused. _She did visit me when I was in the hospital. _Some of the other cast and crew did the same to show support for their boss, and Virginia organized a huge bouquet of flowers and a card from everyone as well as a little singing rendition to cheer him up.

Yes, she was a wonderful girl and caring friend. Erik counted his lucky stars that she was part of his company.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't see Nadir approaching from the side. The Iranian regarded him with a curious look.

"What are you doing lurking in the shadows like a phantom? You do remember you own this theatre right?"

Erik flipped him off as Nadir chuckled. "If I have to become a specter in order to get these poor of an excuse cast working harder, then so be it. Yet, I doubt me frightening them to death would do the trick. People are not as superstitious as they used to be."

"You have a point."

"I always do," Erik retorted and finally glanced at him. "Is there a particular reason you came over to bother me Nadir?"

"No reason," he replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You've been avoiding me."

"Sorry Mother dear but I have a lot on my plate as of right now."

"Erik…" Nadir warned.

Erik sighed. "You don't have to keep doing that. I promise I'm all right. Have been for a while. It hasn't changed."

"Yes, well, your employees have been talking—"

"So let them talk. Doesn't change a thing and I don't give a flying fuck what they think." Erik took a breath and continued, "Is there anything else besides your daily check-up?"

"As a matter of fact, there is," Nadir said. "How's _Don Juan_ coming?"

Erik's brow furrowed. "Unfortunately, I haven't had much time to work on it."

"Still stuck?"

"Trapped like a rat," Erik muttered.

"I'm sure when the muse hits you'll finish it."

"Yes but it's not good enough. Nadir, I have been working on this opera for over two years now. This has never happened to me. I know the people are anxious for something fresh. Not only will it help the theatre further, but it'll be something to draw in more people. It has to be exciting and new. Something that no one has ever seen before."

"Can't disagree on that," Nadir assented. "On another topic, how's the ghost thing going?"

At this, Erik faltered. "G-ghost?" he repeated, his eyes widening. "What do you mean? Why would you ask that?" _Oh my God… does he know about Christine? How?!_

Nadir quirked his brow at his friend's unusual stammering. "Take it easy, man. It's just you haven't said a word about it since I suggested you make contact with it. Not to mention, you really haven't been around long enough to ask. I take it did work?"

Erik inwardly relaxed. He didn't know let alone suspect what occurred before he had visited him the other night. "It was like I thought. All in my mind."

"Really? So your place isn't haunted?"

Erik laughed, albeit forced. "Haunted? C'mon Nadir. It was nothing. Ghosts don't exist. Really…"

"Don't knock it. I just thought it would be interesting."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

Nadir shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. But you know… it would certainly make one interesting story if it was real."

Erik made a sound in the back of his throat, not quite agreeing with Nadir, and told him he had some business to attend to in his office. As Erik retreated, Nadir couldn't help but wonder about what got his friend all of a sudden wound up.

_Well, one thing for certain, I will never understand that man for as long as I live._

xxXXxx

_Five Years Ago…_

_May 2007_

Christine bit her lip, her hands wringing about nervously, as she watched the current audition from the wings. She knew she was going on after… and from what she heard so far was less than encouraging.

Most of the other girls were very good, but not to Erik Trussler they weren't. He may be known as a ladies' man, but when it came to music… Mr. Trussler wasn't kidding around. She heard some complaints about how a couple of the girls had slept with him and were still not offered a job immediately. Christine wanted to say serves them right, but what in the world could he possibly be looking for, especially for a chorus?

"Hey Christine!"

She turned and grinned as her best friend, Meg came from behind. "Hi Meg. I saw you out there… you were fantastic."

The blonde beamed. "Thanks! The dancing bit was easy, but I don't know about that singing. Hopefully, he can look past that and see I have more to offer on the stage."

"I'm sure you'll get in," Christine said, reaching out and squeezing her hand encouragingly.

"I hope so," Meg replied. "But you're a sure win Christine."

"I don't know about that…"

"Don't be so modest Christine. You have been in every lead role since high school and in college. I think you can score this job just as well."

"Yeah but this is totally different Meg. This is Erik Trussler's opera house. The Erik Trussler. This has always been my dream, but what if I'm not as good as everyone else thinks? What if I don't live up to Mr. Trussler's standards? What if I crack and the whole audition is blown? What if—"

"Christine," Meg interrupted abruptly before her best friend could continue her self-doubt ranting. Putting her hands on her shoulders, she looked her square in the eyes. "You're going to nail this audition. You will get into the chorus and eventually you will become the leading soprano. You can do this."

"I can do this," Christine echoed, breathing deeply as Meg nodded.

"Exactly."

"Next! Number 52!"

Christine looked behind her and saw the other singer storm off the stage.

It was her turn now.

Christine swallowed hard. This was it. The moment of truth. She will find out if she was material or not for the Trussler Opera House.

Pushing aside her fear and panic, Christine strode across the stage with her head held high. The worst thing she could do was appear as nervous as she felt.

_You can do this Christine. You were born to be a star_.

Her father's voice resounded in her mind, his gentle and supportive presence helped soothe the overwhelming butterflies in her stomach. She could do this. For herself and for her father. It had been his dream to see her get to this point in her life and while he was gone… Christine knew his spirit was nearby to guide her.

She looked out into the theatre and immediately saw Mr. Trussler and a dark-skinned man whispering amongst each other. Then when Mr. Trussler glanced at her, she felt the piercing stare of his eyes as the light bounced off his white mask. No matter how many times she saw his picture… it didn't compare to the real deal.

Yet, she didn't have time to think before the music was starting to play and Christine waited for her cue.

"_Think of me_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we've said goodbye…"_

She didn't get far… perhaps a couple verses into the song when Mr. Trussler already held his hand out to stop her.

Christine immediately ceased, her breath stuck in her throat as she quickly went over in her mind if she made any mistakes. But she was drawing a blank. She sounded all right… pretty good in fact. So why did he stop her?

"Not bad… #52. Not perfect. But certainly adequate."

"Thank you," Christine replied, frowning. "I'm sorry… did I…"

"Thank you for your time. Next!"

Dismissed.

Just like that.

Christine thought about saying something… anything… but she lost her courage and closed her mouth, taking her leave as the next girl came on the stage.

Meg was waiting for her and right away began telling her how she was good and what a dick that Mr. Trussler is for stopping her when she hadn't made any mistakes and how she was ten times better than anyone else who was given a far longer chance in singing.

Christine appreciated her friend's ardent support, yet she couldn't help but ponder at his words. Adequate? She never got that kind of compliment before and it didn't sit right with her.

All her life, she was called "gifted," "talented," and even "the voice of an angel." She had brought countless audiences from her teens to her early twenties to tears. And it wasn't just the praises she received from her peers and instructors… even her father put her on a pedestal, grooming her to be the next big thing to sweep the operatic world.

Perhaps it was a bit egoistical of her to think she could automatically score this job with little difficulty. Yet, never be said that Christine Daaé was one to falter from a challenge.

Adequate…

Well, there was only one thing left for her to do:

Prove she was the perfect asset to Erik Trussler's company. Even if she had to march into his office and hound him with her singing until he changes his mind.

Christine was determined to be part of his chorus, even if it killed her.

xXx

A couple days later, both Christine and Meg were waiting in the auditorium as they gathered around to wait for the announcement. The dark-skinned man that was sitting next to Mr. Trussler during the auditions was there on stage, but the former was nowhere to be seen.

When everyone settled down, Nadir Khan (as he introduced himself) held out the list of the numbers that were officially selected for the new season.

As he read them off, Christine and Meg held each other's hands and when their numbers were called… Christine could only tremble in her seat.

She made it… she made it!

"We did it Christine!" Meg whispered excitingly. "I can't believe it!"

"Me too…" Christine agreed. She was in a daze. This had to be a dream. There was no other explanation. However, it was real. The paper was real and her number was certainly on that list on those who were hired.

At last… her dream of performing on stage was coming true. And she was going to be singing for none other than the famous Erik Trussler himself! Life couldn't get any better than this!

TBC…

I know a lot of you are waiting for Erik to recognize who Christine really is… Well, he's a smart man (when he wants to be), but I believe our favorite masked Phantom will figure it out. Perhaps… a little reminder will jog his memory? Stay tune!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: All right… since I have been giving you guys some short chapters, here's a nice long one! Trust me… it is so worth the wait! Don't forget to review!

**Chapter 9**

_Present Time_

It was close to midnight when Erik returned back to the apartment. After rehearsals ended around nine, he stayed to work on the pile of paperwork that required his attention. He was expecting Nadir to stay too to keep an eye on him, but to his pleasant surprise… the Iranian left at the same time as the others. And while Erik worked, he did not receive a text message or call from Nadir to check on him or anything.

About time.

Of course, when Erik entered the apartment, he was stunned to see Christine sitting on the couch and watching TV.

She glanced in his direction when the door opened and smiled. "I was wondering if you were coming home."

Shutting the door quickly, Erik swiftly walked over and picked up the remote that was at her side and turned the TV off.

"Hey—" she started but Erik cut her off. "What the Hell are you doing?"

She raised her brow. "Um… I was watching Jay Leno. Why? Are you a Letterman fan?"

"What if someone heard and the super came in…"

"They would see nothing Erik," Christine said calmly and a little annoyed. "I'm a ghost."

"I know that but…" he groaned and shook his head.

"Look. If you're worried about the cable bill, then I have my ways of tweaking it. You'll be surprised how easily manipulative electricity can be," she replied, smirking.

"That's not the point," Erik said, grinding his teeth.

A look of realization passed over on her features. "I see. You're ashamed you have a ghost in your apartment. Well, like I told you, I cannot pass over so I'm stuck. Deal with it. I know I am."

"Honestly? I'm exhausted and I don't feel like arguing."

"Me neither but you're the one that started it," Christine clearly pointed out.

Erik closed his mouth. She was right. "About that… the crossing over thing… I didn't—"

"It's fine Erik. Really," she said, standing up. "If it were anyone else in your shoes, then they would have said the same thing. Hell, I would have said the same if the roles were reversed. You didn't know and I wouldn't have expected you to know, unless you're secretly a medium and knew that already and then I would be pissed."

"I'm not."

She laughed. "I know you're not. I'm only teasing. So… how was work?"

Erik went over to the kitchen and set his briefcase on the table. Christine stood by the table with a big smile on her face. It was then he noticed that she was wearing the same outfit from the other day. "What's with the…" he motioned to her clothes and she looked down at her soft pink shirt and blue jeans. "Can you change clothes?"

"Does it bother you? I don't produce B.O. and can't get them dirty, but…" She closed her eyes in deep concentration and he watched in amazement as her form shimmered and then she appeared with a pair of gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt with a golden 'C' emblem across her chest.

"That's some trick," Erik commented.

Christine shrugged. "Well, it only works with the clothes I remember I owned. That and I have to keep the image in my mind for it to work, otherwise…" And to prove it, the comfy clothes reverted back to the pink shirt and jeans. "I go back to what I last wore."

"That's a lot of concentrating."

"Yeah but I had no one to impress so I haven't practiced that much. Anyways, tell me about work."

"You don't have to do that," he said, turning his back to her as he went to the freezer and pulled out a frozen dinner.

"Do what?"

"The 'how was work' thing."

"I want to know," Christine insisted. "I love music and it happens to be a field I'm good in." She paused and her gaze narrowed in on the frozen meal. "You know… you eat an awful lot of those. It's not good for you."

"You're my mother now too?" Erik retorted. "I'm a big boy and can eat whatever I want if you haven't noticed."

Going back to the refrigerator, he pulled out a beer as well. Untwisting the cap, Erik took a swig and added, "You know if we're going to be doing this co-habituating thing. We're going to have set some ground rules."

"I agree," she said. "For one, you have a drinking problem and alcohol should be banned."

"I don't have a problem," he said defensively. "I like to drink and there is nothing wrong with it."

"Of course not," she said. "For most… you, on the other hand, are a different story."

"As I was saying," he said, changing the subject. "We need to establish some ground rules. I'm a very private person and I don't want people snooping in here when I'm not around so no more TV. God knows how long it's been playing since I left and the last thing I want is some idiot going through my belongings."

"I have been watching TV on and off this whole time I've been here. I'm telling you… I never had anyone complained and certainly no one has come into this apartment. Besides, some people leave it on as background noise to prevent people from coming inside. So… I'm really doing you a favor."

"Christine—"

"You're asking me not to do anything. Do you have any clue how boring it can be? A girl can only sit around and read for so long and there are so many things I'm missing that I can catch up on with the TV."

"Don't you go anywhere when you know… you poof?"

She gaped at him. "Poof?"

"Whatever it is you do."

"I don't go anywhere," she said irritably. "When I 'poof' as you say, I'm still here, but I'm not visible to you."

"You were with me in the ambulance. And in the hospital I remember."

"It was a lucky break," Christine replied. "I can leave the apartment for a short period of time, but it doesn't last very long. I end up back here not long after and it was here I remained waiting for you to come back."

His cheek reddened. "Well, that, uh, sucks."

"Tell me about it." She slid into the chair across from him as Erik set the now very hot meal down. He wanted to say something, but bit his tongue and sat down. She seemed to be in a good mood and he didn't want her to disappear on him just yet.

"So…" Erik said. "Do you eat?"

This caused her to burst into laughter. "Where would it go?" she asked.

"I thought it was a pretty good logical question."

"More like 'duh'." Her eyes twinkled with her teasing. It was kind of adorable in a ghostly way. But to his surprise, she rose and walked over to the cabinet where she pulled out a plate and a fork, and then took her seat. He watched with curiosity as she picked up the fork and mimed the actions as if she was about to eat. "Force of habit," she explained. "I can't eat but I like to pretend I can."

Erik chose not to respond to that statement. The last thing he wanted her to think was if she thought he was insulting her. Instead, he continued to stir his potatoes so the steam would release and scooped some up with a piece of chicken and put it in his mouth. Chewing, he told her, "I'm still trying to get used to this whole ordeal. It's not every day that a person finds they have a roommate they didn't know they had. Plus, I did have a long day at the theatre."

"Sorry," she said and she sounded very genuine. "I take it rehearsals didn't go as well as you would have liked?"

"Yes and no…"

"You put on good shows. Always did." Her tone was full of confidence. "Whatever the issue is, you will figure it out and put on the best show for the world to see."

"You have seen my operas?" he questioned in wonder.

If it was possible, she blushed. "You could say that."

"You're not some freakishly stalker spirit now, are you?"

She smiled. "No."

"That's a relief."

"Well, from what I have seen and heard… the theatre will certainly turn things around in the city. Especially when you finish _Don Juan Triumphant. _People will be lining up and down on Woodward Avenue to be the first to watch a brand new Erik Trussler opera. Of course it would help when you finish it. I know you're not exactly happy with what you have done so far, but I read it… and have to say, I think it is pretty amazing."

"You read it?" Erik repeated in disbelief.

"I hope you don't mind," Christine said sheepishly. "I have heard the bits and pieces you worked on but there were new songs and notes that you hadn't said aloud so I was curious."

"That's personal!" Erik said, rising abruptly from his chair. "I don't let anyone listen or see what I'm working on until I'm finished."

The outburst took her by surprised since she wasn't expecting that reaction. "I'm sorry but you looked like you needed some encouragement. The opera is great. It has plenty of potential. I might be able to help you if you like. I can sing…"

"This is what I mean by ground rules," he said interrupting her. "I don't want you touching my stuff. Period."

"I didn't mean any harm."

Exhaling deeply, Erik sat back down and stared at his beer. "I don't need help. Thanks anyways but in the future… do not touch any music I am working on."

Christine didn't answer but she didn't leave either. Erik knew he said he didn't want to fight, but he couldn't help it. He never liked it when anyone touched his current works let alone listen to him when he played. Not his parents, not Nadir, and certainly not Elena. But it wasn't Christine's fault. She didn't know that and he couldn't fault her for trying to help him when he was so obviously trapped in a block.

"I appreciate the offer," he said, hoping it would soothe any hurt feelings.

She shrugged but her expression hadn't changed. Knowing he should switch gears there was something that had been on his mind all day and from last night.

"I was thinking… are you supposed to be a Guardian Angel?"

Her head tilted to the side. "I thought you didn't believe in that."

"I don't but…"

She nodded understandingly. "I don't have wings. And somehow I doubt Guardian Angels are confined to one place. But I am glad I was here at the right time. I do want to help you. I had this feeling for quite some time… in fact since you moved in. It was something and in a way I am pleased that I haven't moved on yet. We wouldn't be having this conversation if I did."

"Yeah. It was a rather impulsive thing on my part. Thank you."

"You have a gift Erik," she said. "I'm sure whatever it was that drove you to that brink… it couldn't be as bad as you thought. I believe there is no real good reason unless you're severely ill and there's no painless way out."

"Yes, well, it didn't happen."

The conversation stopped and they sat there in silence while Erik finished eating.

Before Erik went to his room, he asked Christine if he could ask her a personal question. She acquiesced and he asked her the other question that was also on his mind.

"How did you die?"

Christine gave him one of her sad smiles. "I wish I knew. That's something I don't remember."

"You don't remember it at all?"

"Afraid not," she answered. "It's foggy… now and then I get bits of pieces here and there, but not enough to put the whole puzzle together. I remember everything else about my life until up to that point. Don't feel bad Erik. It's something you have to accept and I did."

"Don't you want to know? Or at least remember?"

Christine thought about it. "At first… I did. Now… I don't know. It's really something I cannot obsess over with my limitations. But there is one thing I missed doing and it does drive me crazy not to do it."

"What?"

"Singing," she replied. "Being on the stage in front of an audience. That's the one thing I missed most about my life."

"You performed?" Erik was astonished to hear that and he at once began thinking of singers he knew about her age and wondered if he ever heard her.

"Yes. I actually worked for you at the Trussler Opera House here in Detroit."

Now… this captured his attention. She did?

"I don't know what I was thinking, but I had a feeling you wouldn't remember me. I wasn't a lead singer or anything."

"You must have been in the chorus."

"Yes. We ran into each other a few times, but I don't expect you to remember. However, I want to thank you Erik for giving me that opportunity to be a part of your operas. It was a dream of mine and you helped it come true when you hired me some years back." Christine's smile grew wider as she thought back to that moment when she first learned that she was chosen… "It was one of the best moments in my life."

Looking at him, she wished him a good night. Erik did the same and closed the door. Lying on his bed, he stared up at the ceiling and thought back to what Christine revealed to him.

She worked for him… she was in the chorus…

If only he could remember her.

xxXXxx

_Five Years Ago…_

_August 2007_

"No. No. No. No!" Christine dug her toe into the hard floor then moved in a quick, impatient circle before taking her position up once more.

After doing a count in her head, she started the dance and about halfway through she messed a step, which caused her balance to falter. Biting her lip, she muffled out an oath and returned to her original position to start all over again.

She could dance. She knew the counts and the routine, but when it came to execution… sometimes she had mixed results. She wasn't terrible but she certainly wasn't the best either.

And it had been opening night, and unfortunately, Christine made several mistakes. They were subtle and probably no one noticed, but she did and it was why she chose to stay late to practice before the next performance. Everyone else left to celebrate, even Meg, and when she told Raoul what she planned to do… he wasn't exactly thrilled but he begged her not to stay too late.

He would have stayed, but he had a deposition in the morning and needed to do some prep work beforehand. Christine was rather glad he left. She could concentrate a lot better alone, and sadly, Raoul wouldn't be able to provide much feedback or criticism. Of course, he had said she deserved a break since she was staying late on most nights to rehearse.

But he didn't understand.

This was her career. If she wanted to last long here and perhaps eventually get moved up to a minor role… she would have to practice, practice, practice, and practice.

Christine was a dedicated performer and she wasn't going to let a few errors mess her up.

Yet, this dance was becoming more elusive and her temper was running short. So she decided that she would practice a couple of the songs before calling it a night. She was tired and the last thing she wanted to do was walk home when she could collapse from exhaustion.

Clearing her throat, she ran through a quick scale and was getting ready to begin when laughter interrupted her.

Her first impulse was to hide. Everyone was supposed to be gone and the last thing she wanted to do was get into trouble, even if she was only practicing.

Christine ducked behind the curtain just as she saw a man and a woman stumbling drunk down the aisle. She squinted and immediately recognized the white mask.

Mr. Trussler.

Her eyes widened in astonishment. If the boss saw her… but somehow if she had remained on the stage, he probably wouldn't have noticed her. Not while he was engrossed with his "date".

"This is my theatre! My pride and joy," he said, sweeping his arm across the empty stage. "This is where the music comes alive."

"Oh yeah… I can feel it coming alive all right," the over-the-top, mini skin tight dress blonde said as her hand grasped his crouch.

Christine had to resist the urge to vomit at the disgusting display, but quickly scolded herself as to why should she care. He was her boss and whatever he did in his personal life and time… was absolutely none of her business. And she couldn't believe she was watching.

She closed her eyes and waited as they tripped and laughed away. At least they had the decency to go to his office or someplace instead of in the open.

Thank God for small miracles.

Christine came out from behind the curtain and hopped off the stage to grab her jacket and purse, which she placed in one of the chairs. Luckily, neither one of them noticed her belongings.

Throwing her jacket over her arm and hooking her purse over her shoulder, Christine began to make a quick getaway. She was almost at the door when she realized she didn't have her phone.

"Damn!" She looked around to see if she was in the clear and sprinted back to the auditorium. The dimmed lights made it difficult to see and she got down on her knees as she patted the ground for the missing phone.

"Looking for something?"

Christine jumped out of her skin. "Jesus!" She looked behind and there was Erik Trussler standing more than a few feet away with her cell in his hand.

"I believe you left this."

Christine could only stare stupidly, not sure if this was actually happening. Since the moment she started working here, Erik Trussler had only appeared briefly to watch over rehearsals before disappearing to God knows where. He was aloof and mysterious in person rather than what was portrayed by the media. The only people who had more contact with the cast were his partner, Nadir Khan, and Mr. Andre and Firmin. Rumor had it that Erik Trussler would be returning to New York City soon and Christine had been hoping for a chance to work more with the famous composer.

He was her idol and she had seen every one of his operas, even going so far to memorize his librettos. It had been a dream of hers to star in one of his operas. His music was unlike any of the other composers she grew up with. And she grew up with all of the classics.

Her father, Gus, was a violinist and a member of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. Before he joined them, he had traveled around playing in various concert halls and theatres around the world. He was known in certain circles and could have made more of a name for himself, but Gus Daaé did not care about fame. The music was the only thing that mattered and when he learned his wife was pregnant, he had returned to Detroit and stayed when Christine was born. Sadly, her mother died in childbirth so it was just Gus and his little girl.

Christine remembered how whenever the orchestra was on hiatus, Gus would take her to different countries where he would play with his old friends. She loved listening to them and it exposed her to all various types of music. Then when her father became sick… traveling had to cease.

It was then she discovered Erik Trussler's music. That had helped her cope with the bad days and if it was possible… it would ease the pain Gus suffered. Her father had a deep admiration for the young composer, although his lifestyle was less desirable. But Gus never stopped encouraging his daughter to sing and believed that she would one day be in one of Erik Trussler's operas.

When Gus died, Christine was ever the more determined to make that dream a reality. At last, all that hard work paid off and here she was in an empty theatre with the flesh and blood Erik Trussler standing in front of her, dangling her cell phone in the air like a tempting treat.

His smirk was smug and his eyes were doing their own assessment on her person as she rose. His wolfish grin grew wider when her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

He was certainly attractive—devilishly so—that Christine couldn't remember if that was the case during her audition. He had hardly looked at her and she didn't really get that good of a look, except for the glaring white mask.

Now…

He was a sinful temptation with his short wavy jet black hair that looked soft to the touch; the hard, chiseled chin and very smooth cheek with the lean and well tone shape of his body, judging from the appearance of his sharp black tuxedo. Yet, it was his eyes that captured Christine. They were an unusual color—almost iridescent—with flecks of gold in the turquoise orbs. Completely mesmerizing and demanding with a single look that it was no wonder that many women had fallen for him. Those eyes could make a woman's knees buckle.

However, Christine kept her calm as she opened her hand. "Thank you for finding my phone. May I have it?"

"I don't know… it depends."

His voice was pure rich, silky goodness, which should have her toes curling… yet, she was quickly growing irritated.

"Just give me my phone so I can leave."

The visible brow lifted, shocked that his charm didn't seem to rub off on her. "Give me a good reason seeing that you are trespassing."

"I'm not trespassing," Christine retorted with indignation. "I was practicing because I wasn't happy with my performance during the show tonight. Well, I was until I was interrupted."

"Oh?" He appeared amused and not at all perturbed at her insinuation. "Pretty dedicated I take it."

"Much so," she replied. "And it's growing late and I would like to go home. If you will hand me my phone, then I can be off on my merry way."

"Let me see."

She gaped. "Excuse me?"

"You said you were practicing due to your unhappy performance. I want to watch you to see what it was."

"Sorry," she said. "My time is over and I know my boyfriend is going to get extremely worried if I'm not home. Besides, I think you should get back to your friend."

The moment those words left her mouth, Christine mentally winced. The last thing she wanted to do was piss her boss off, especially a powerful one like Erik Trussler. However, it did nothing of the sort and he actually chuckled. Chuckled!

"I cannot argue with you on that one. Here you go." He handed the proffered cell over and Christine snatched it from his fingers.

"Thank you," she said stiffly and turned to walk away. She didn't look back once, wanting to keep her composure. She couldn't believe what happened and that she spoke to the Erik Trussler. Never mind the fact he was flirting with her… she couldn't believe she said what she said. It was a sure way to get on his bad side and maybe even make it less likely for a promotion.

Come again… he never asked for her name and she never gave it. Plus, his breath reeked of alcohol. There was a very high probable chance he won't remember this or her.

Never had Christine felt so relieved in her whole life.

_He'll forget me completely. I bet he forgot me already. That's right… he's in his office with that slut and the last thing on his mind is that a brown-haired girl with the cell phone. _

xXx

The next day Erik Trussler showed up at the morning meeting.

This inspired whispers amongst the crowd since he rarely appeared at these gatherings. However, last night was opening night and it was only natural he would come to tell them what he thought about the performance.

And he did. He spoke in very explicit detail what he thought, what the shortcomings were, who sung off-key, who missed a choreographed step, costume mishaps, etc. He not only covered the cast, but also the pit as to the keeping of the instruments and the backstage crew handling the props and lights.

When all was said and done, he added one more thing:

"Despite the poor excuse at an attempt to sing opera that was, at least one of you had the initiative to recognize the faults and worked at getting it corrected. That is dedication and if you want to survive working in my theatre… then you must always be willing to go the extra mile, even if is staying here hours past while everyone else is celebrating a mediocre show. I want to see more gumption or else some of you might be looking for other means of employment. And you know exactly who you are whom I'm referring to. So before we go on later tonight… I want everyone to get on this stage and sing like your very life depends upon it. Music is passion and the passion will be felt by the audience if the cast and crew can get their acts together and do it right."

Everyone was silent during his speech, but the reprimand was sincerely felt throughout and already resulted in some people reevaluating how they did the other night.

Of course, Christine was trying to ignore the fact that it was she that stayed late to practice when several others around her were whispering as to who Mr. Trussler was talking about.

"Wow…" Meg murmured. "I never thought what a complete jackass he can be. But he is still has that sexy aura about him."

"Well, I think some of those comments were uncalled for," Christine said back. "I mean just saying you need to work harder would have sufficed."

"Yeah but it's not as strong or effective," Meg replied.

They were soon dismissed. As everyone separated to their respective posts, Christine made a point to stay clear from Erik Trussler as she got up on stage to stretch alongside the other chorus members. If he remembered her late night rehearsal, then he might remember what she looked like.

And what she said.

Keeping her back to him, she tried to blend in with the others and nonchalantly kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't look her way. He was moving away with Mr. Khan and Christine felt herself relaxed. Now, she could focus more on the scene and as she stood to the side waiting for her cue, she felt a tapping at her shoulder and when she turned around…

There was Erik Trussler.

The color immediately drained from her face.

This seemed to amuse him and he (not at all discrete) said, "Could you come with me for a moment? Carry on without her for now."

Christine swallowed hard as she quietly obeyed, walking behind him. She knew all eyes were on her and it only made her stomach feel queasier than it did.

_Oh God…_

He didn't take her far. They were very well within the eyesight of the whole crew, but his voice dropped a few octaves so only Christine could hear.

"Mr. Trussler, I—" she started to say, hoping an apology might get her back in his good graces, but he interrupted her.

"I wasn't kidding what I said earlier. If you want to work your way to the top, then you need to work on improving yourself. And I must say… you impressed me. You continue with the same determination and you might find yourself one day in that leading role."

Christine was flabbergasted. Did he say what she thought he said? As she replayed what he said, she almost missed his next words.

"…I want you to stay tonight after the show."

"I'm s-sorry?" she asked.

"Tonight," he replied slowly. "After the show, I want you to stay after like you did yesterday. I promise I will not keep you out late. Is that clear?"

Christine didn't know what to say. What did one say to that? And what did he mean by not keeping her out too late?

But he didn't give her the opportunity to answer.

He nodded in agreement and said, "Excellent. Be here on that stage and we will go from there."

Just like that he dismissed her, turning to head back to his office.

Christine continued to stand there, not sure what the Hell had occurred. The first moment of reality came when Meg ran up to her, shaking her arm.

"Christine? Christine! What did Mr. Trussler want?"

"I… I don't know."

Meg frowned. "What do you mean you don't know? You were speaking to him weren't you?"

"Yes, but…" Christine shook her head. "Never mind. We have to practice before tonight."

As rehearsal continued, Christine couldn't help the nervous feeling from returning. What was going to await her later that night?

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

Tried hard as he might, Erik couldn't remember Christine at all. He apologized the next morning and she gently brushed it off.

"I didn't think you would. I guess we looked at it differently."

"What differently?" he asked.

She gave him a knowing smile. "Well, I'll give you a clue. After all, you kept me in suspense for a whole day wondering why in the world would you ask me to stay late after a show. I was the girl who left her cell phone in the theatre, although I suspect you took it knowing I would come back."

And with that cryptic statement, Christine disappeared.

_Damn_, Erik thought. _Whatever I did… I know we didn't have sex. I would remember that. _

So what was it?

TBC…


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Yay! Officially, I'm on spring break! And my goal is to get some serious writing done on this story. Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing and of course… following and favoriting this story! I know some parts seems slow, but it's all crucial for what I have planned. And of course, there will be laughter and lots of angst and drama, but being a big E/C shipper… I can promise I will have a happy ending. Or I should say… I'll have my version of a happy ending. Hang on tight and here we go!

**Chapter 10**

_Five Years Ago…_

_August 2007_

Evening finally came and the performance went a lot better than its first night. Or so Christine thought. She didn't make that many mistakes, but her mind was elsewhere as to why Erik Trussler wanted to see her.

She eventually told Meg his odd request and while everyone was getting ready to leave for the night, Meg had offered to stay with her.

"I don't like he singled you out," she said. "He has a reputation Christine. He might think you're willing to do what you could to rise up on the ladder."

"I don't think so Meg. I said I have a boyfriend," Christine responded.

Meg rolled her eyes. "That doesn't matter."

"I'll be fine," Christine said in such a convincing tone that she believed she wasn't as nervous as what she felt. "More than likely I'm making a mountain out of a molehill. He might just want to offer feedback since I was practicing last night."

"All right. But I think you're making a mistake."

Eventually, Meg did leave and Christine couldn't stand waiting any longer. If she did for another minute, then she would lose her courage and call her friend back. Taking a deep breath, she walked back on stage where she took her place. Now, she had to wait for the missing composer to appear.

He did.

Materializing from the shadows, he walked across the stage and stopped in front of her.

"I watched you tonight. I must say… you did a pretty good job. You obviously have a nice voice and it does stand out from the others in the chorus."

"I didn't mean to—" she started but was immediately cut off.

"First rule: do not apologize if you can sing. You have the talent and it is best to showcase that talent. You do not want to be part of the group and have your voice drowned out. Can it be better? Yes. Your voice still needs some training and you're in luck that I am bringing this to your attention. And, of course, I will provide some advice to you while we are here. There is no point in me wasting my time. Also, dancing isn't a strong suit of yours."

Her face fell. She thought tonight's dance was a lot better, but obviously it wasn't since he had been watching her. Christine didn't know if she should be embarrassed about her dancing or be flattered that he did recognize her singing abilities. "I know I'm not a strong dancer. I did take dance classes when I was younger, but—"

"I didn't ask for excuses. It was an observation I made."

"Oh." Her face reddened.

"You are first and foremost a singer."

She nodded in agreement.

"Well, I will make a point to tell Gwen to cut back on you in the dances. We will focus more on the singing aspects of the chorus."

Christine was at a loss for words. Was he… was Erik Trussler really doing this for her?

Very discretely, she put her arms behind her and pinched the skin to make sure this wasn't a dream.

This was really happening.

So many words came to mind that she wanted to say. For him to put her in the position of her greatest strength… it would certainly ensure her rightful place in moving up. As her gratitude began to bubble over, Christine was not given the chance to express herself when he moved past her to go to the piano.

"Let's do a quick warm up," he instructed and launched into scales.

What ensued was the best three hours of her life. Or it came pretty damn close to it. He was a severe teacher and was very quick to point out a mistake and criticize her shortcomings. He made her repeat over and over a note until she hit it right and when it came to the dancing… he was able to help her in the counts and explained what she was doing wrong.

Every time he stopped to comment or make a remark, Christine felt her earlier excitement began to fade. It seemed like everything she did was wrong and no matter how hard she tried… she couldn't seem to please him. It was very upsetting to think her life has led to this moment and she couldn't even do a decent enough job in front of her boss.

As if sensing her thoughts, he stopped playing and turned a stern countenance at her. "You're second guessing yourself. I can see it in your face. Now stop it. If you were a hopeless case, then I would have said so and asked you to leave. Have I done so? No. Now let's do it again."

About the millionth time later, Christine was able to earn a grin from him. Or at least a semi-grin.

"Much better," he said, nodding more so to himself. "You're getting it. The problem was that whoever trained you… did a terrible job. Do you hear how better you sound? How much your voice is being projected?"

Wordlessly, she nodded. Her voice, in a short time, truly soared. She felt like she was on cloud nine and she suspected that her father was smiling down at her. The only grateful bit was that his insult towards her teacher was not her father. Gus wasn't a singer, but he did take her to different teachers over the years. Everyone had a different idea when it came to training, and she was now starting to like Erik Trussler's way of training, despite the constant haranguing.

He was about to say more when he was interrupted by the buzzing and the ringtone of the theme song to _Perry Mason_.

A flash of realization came over her features and she dashed over to her purse to dig out her cell.

"Hi Raoul!" she said breathlessly. "What time is it? Oh my God! I wasn't paying attention… yes. I'm on my way. Okay… love you. Bye."

Closing her phone, she gazed up at the masked man and shrugged her shoulders apologetically. "That was my boyfriend. I didn't know it was this late."

"It happens when you are lost in the music," he replied.

"Thank you," she said at last. "This means a lot to me. I—"

"There's no need to thank me," he said, brushing her off. "If anything, I was doing myself a favor. You have spirit and a gift… if there's one thing I strongly dislike is a voice being wasted."

It was a callous thing to say and selfish too, but Christine ignored the sting. She didn't want her good mood to be ruined and focused on the compliment that she had a gift.

"Good night Mr. Trussler," Christine said. "See you tomorrow."

He muttered a good night, but didn't say anything else.

She was still riding on the high when she returned home, and while Raoul was not exactly happy about the lateness, he noticed a change in her demeanor.

When he asked her about it, Christine didn't want to go into details about her late night lesson with Erik Trussler. Instead, she told him that she and a bunch of other girls stayed to rehearse and while doing so… she experienced a profound moment that would impact her career. The lie rolled easily off her tongue that she didn't think twice about it. The last thing she wanted was for Raoul to get upset and confront Erik with his reputation being what it was. He wasn't entirely thrilled that the playboy owned the theatre that she was working in, but he knew she was happy and he supported her all the way.

Raoul was pleased to hear that and congratulated her, yet he gently reminded her, "Next time don't stay out too late. I was worried."

However, it didn't deter Christine as she made a noncommittal sound and got ready for bed. After climbing into bed beside Raoul, Christine turned to her side, holding herself as she fell asleep with a huge smile gracing her features.

The following day it was announced that Erik Trussler returned to New York City that morning. It was sudden (although expected) and no one in the theatre seemed disappointed. However, Christine felt an unusual sense of loss at hearing the news. After what happened with their lesson… she assumed there would be more to follow. One lesson couldn't change everything and she still felt she had more to learn after receiving a taste of what Erik could offer. But it would seem that was not going to be the case anymore.

While the loss of future lessons hurt the most… There was something else that bothered her. Something Christine couldn't put her finger on and she had no idea why.

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

Fortune must have been smiling down on her as Christine found herself back in the halls of the Trussler Opera House. While it had been years since she last walked the floors… it was still exactly what she remembered.

The carpet was still the same deep, dark wine color and the walls were the sleek mahogany wood, the paintings and statues (similar to those over in Europe) adorned the spaces and corners of the opera house. Very little was done to change its appearance… even the smell was the same.

At first, she had to chuckle at herself for her initial silly fears. Once she was able to leave the apartment, she found herself walking past the theatre and if the atmosphere was just right… she could listen to the rehearsals within the building. Yet, she would often stare at the door; her hand pressed against the panel and would not enter.

It wasn't like she was blocked from it. Far from it! But it was her own feelings that kept her at bay. Part of her was worried to see what changes were made within and part of it was punishment. Christine knew her death must have been prematurely and she couldn't help but think that she failed the music and Erik for not gracing the stage anymore.

Another part of it was the man himself.

True, her time spent with him wasn't as significant to him as it was for her. Otherwise he would have remembered…

Then again, she was only a chorus girl and she didn't allow his advances so perhaps there was nothing memorable about her. After all, how many talented young women had he heard over the years? And how many of them were like her—wide-eyed and fresh—eager to make a name for themselves?

And that's what prevented her from entering until now. She didn't want to know if there was another Christine after all. That there was another dedicated singer that the great Erik Trussler would have singled out to give advice to help her rise in the limelight. Of course, she was being silly to think another one wouldn't appear.

But after befriending him in this form… she found the courage to face her fears and come to the theatre. And she was glad she did… being surrounded by the comfort of music once more, Christine couldn't believe she had stayed away for as long as she did.

After roaming the lobby, she went into the auditorium where rehearsals were commencing.

No one could see her, but being mindful and respectful, Christine stayed in the back. She didn't want to disrupt the magical moment, although she knew she wouldn't being a ghost and all. For now, she was going to pretend that she wasn't invisible to the singers. Instead, she was preparing to introduce herself as a new cast member and wanted to watch them first.

As she listened and watched, she imagined herself back on the stage and the crowds of people were applauding loudly as she made her starring debut.

A tear ran down her cheek as a nearby light flickered on the wall behind her.

xxXXxx

Erik wrapped up the paperwork he had for the day and was locking the door to his office when he heard singing.

It wasn't Virginia and it wasn't any of the other singers.

Yet… it was a voice that was strangely familiar. Hauntingly so.

He carefully went to the auditorium and right there on the stage was Christine. Everyone else was on a lunch break and there she was… Blissfully unaware of her audience, she reenacted the scenes from earlier. She flitted from side to side, her voice carrying all the way to the heavens. It brought back a distant memory from Erik's head… one where he spent one night teaching a young chorus girl who had immense talent but lacked the training.

His eyes widened as realization washed over him.

Christine had been that girl…

The revelation was absolutely astonishing and Erik could only stare at her in utter amazement. He remembered thinking that she had the potential of one day becoming one of his leading ladies. And while she performed alone he could easily see her in that role. She would have been adored by millions and her name would have become a household name if he had anything to do with it.

He immediately began to think of other songs… other operas that she could do. He could see her in every main role that came to mind, even that elusive _Don Juan Triumphant._ Christine could be the Aminta that he was searching for, the one part where he thought Elena was right for. To think that she had been there all along… underneath his nose and he never once thought she could have been the one.

As soon as he thought he needed to correct that wrong… he then remembered that Christine would never become Aminta.

She was dead. A ghost… And only he could see and hear her.

"There you are Erik."

Nadir came over and stood next to him and looked in the direction of the stage. "Uh… see something interesting?"

"What? Why would you ask that?" he asked on the defensive.

Nadir cocked a brow. "Just that you were staring really intently at that empty stage. I didn't know if you were trying to conjure something. Should I be worried?"

"Of course not. Don't be an idiot," Erik muttered.

"Right. Well, we should go."

When Erik didn't respond, Nadir gave him a look. "Your appointment with Dr. Giry. It starts in thirty minutes."

"Right. I almost forgot."

"You better not. She flies out here to see you so don't forget that."

"Yes Mother."

Erik sighed and looked back on the stage and saw that Christine was gone.

Just like in life.

TBC…


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thank you everyone for reviewing! Now that our boy finally remembers our girl… it is only the start for what we will discover about Christine. Plus, Erik does have a lot of issues he needs to work on so without further ado…

**Chapter 11**

"How is your routine going?"

Erik stared across at Dr. Giry from the conference table. He blinked once. "What was that?"

She sighed with irritation. "Your routine Erik. Since you have been on your own, how has your routine been?"

Distractedly, he tapped his fingers on the sleek surface. "Sleep, eat, work. Mainly a lot of work."

"Season is underway I take it."

"Yeah. It is going to be a busy one and I'm still working on my latest opera."

She scribbled something in her notepad. "Feeling stressed?"

"Of course. Who wouldn't?" he retorted. "Tell me again why we're meeting in the conference room of your hotel?"

Dr. Giry looked up, her glasses slipping down to the end of her nose. Her cool eyes peered into his. "You're the one who didn't want to meet at the office in the hospital."

"Right. Look, doc, I'm feeling a lot better. I made some great strides and I have come to terms with my issues and feel like I have better outlook on life now. But honestly? I have a lot to prepare and I need to focus on that and these little 'get-togethers' are great and all, but it's taking up my time. So let's call it a day and say we meet again… I don't know… next year? Oh wait… I might be booked. I'll get back to you."

Pushing her glasses back, Antoinette clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Nice try Erik. You know how many times I have heard something along those lines from my other clients? Trust me; you can spare at least an hour of your time with me. Plus, I believed it was agreed that this will not only be good for you, but for your fans who are troubled as well."

"Sure. Throw that at me." She had to play _that _card. Damn her.

"You keep saying you're coming to terms and you're doing better… and while I'm doing my best to contain my jump for joy on hearing that… I know you're feeding me a line."

"Antoinette," Erik purred. "You would think I would give you a line?"

"Don't sweet talk either. That bullshit doesn't work Trussler. I'll believe you once you take off your mask in front of me. Until then… I like our little get-togethers. Makes my life so exciting."

Erik sat back in his seat and continued drumming his fingers on the table. "You know how I feel about that."

"Yes but that's where the problem lies. You're afraid to show people what you look like because you fear how they will react and treat you. For years you have been carrying this fear without taking a chance and letting those close to you prove they are worthy of your trust and friendship. Now, Nadir Khan has seen you without the mask when you were in the hospital as did your doctor and the nurses that attended you. Did that lend to an awful disaster that resulted in the end of the world?"

"It was different. I was unconscious so I have no clue what their initial reactions were," Erik argued. "But I will tell you this… Nadir has been tiptoeing since I left the hospital. It's not how you would treat a person normally."

"Are you certain it has to do with your face and not the fact that you were trying to commit suicide?"

"I haven't made a single attempt since. The balcony was an accident. Really that fear is no excuse."

"Our friends will always care even if it was only one attempt. That's one and too many."

Erik saw no point in continuing that argument. "Anyways," he said, changing the topic. "I have been busy and I have not had had a single dark thought."

_Scratch, scratch. _The pen danced across the page. "Have you spoken yet to Ms. Carlton?"

Erik's hand tensed and his chin went rigid. "No. I have not."

"No in that she has called you but you won't return her calls or no as in—"

"No as in no," Erik replied tersely. "I do not intend on speaking to her."

"You should. It will certainly be therapeutic."

"I don't see how it would. Let's move on, shall we?"

"Well, everything I throw out there you continue to shoot down. Why don't you tell me what you really want to talk about?"

"There isn't anything I can think of."

"Oh, I think there is. You have been awfully distracted since you came in and I have a feeling it is more than just the work at your opera house. Something happened to you and your mind cannot stay focus on what is going on presently. Now… do I have to repeat to you again the definition of confidentiality?"

"You know, Annie," Erik said, rising. "It's been fun. But I have things to do. Good to see you again. Have a safe flight back home."

He was near the door when Antoinette called his name.

"Erik," she said. "Sooner or later you have to stop running away. This isn't over."

"Yip-yee," he muttered and walked out. He found Nadir in the lobby and told him he was going home.

"How was it? Or should I even ask?" the Iranian asked.

Erik glared at him. "I don't want to hear another word."

"All right. Sorry I asked." Nadir followed him out as they got into Nadir's car.

The whole drive back to the apartment, Erik was silent as he thought about the one person who was occupying his mind lately:

Christine.

The image of her singing on the stage all alone was engraved in his memory. Her voice was so full of life, full of hopes and dreams, and… He closed his eyes as he breathed in deeply.

A long time ago he had told that young girl that her voice was a gift and he hated to see such talent wasted.

And what ended up happening?

There was so much he wanted to say to her by the time he walked inside the apartment. Yet, when she greeted him with that cheerful smile and sparkle in her eyes… he found the words dying at his lips.

What was the use of bringing it up when she already knows?

Instead, he gave her a half-grin and told her hello.

"How was your appointment with Dr. Giry?" she asked.

"How did you…? No… never mind," Erik shook his head. "Can we add this to the list of private things?"

Christine rolled her eyes. "You know… talking does help. It gets things off your chest and you're not going to feel all grumpy and stuff. And you're not going to make the other people around you just as irritable."

"Thank you Dr. Casper, but one doctor a day is enough I can handle."

"I'm saying I'm here to lend an ear," she said. "I'm a pretty damn good listener."

"Look… I just got home and the last thing I want to do is talk about my session with Giry. Can I relax for a bit?"

She thought about it. "I suppose so."

"Thank you." Erik thought about going to his piano and playing, but just the thought of music with Christine right there… No. He wasn't in the mood for that. So he reached for the remote by the TV and turned it on.

Taking a seat on the couch, he scooted away as Christine sat down at the opposite end. She didn't say a word, which was fine, and together they watched the program. It was some entertainment show and something Erik doesn't normally watch, but Christine appeared to be riveted so he let it be.

"_Is there wedding bells ringing? From the looks of it, singer Elena Carlton was seen sporting a shiny diamond ring. It would appear that she and actor, Blaine Fox, are certainly getting cozier. Although, some fans are asking the question… what must Erik Trussler be thinking with this happy news?"_

"Oh dear…" Christine murmured but it was too late.

Jaw clenched, Erik rose from the couch, his hand trembling as the remote shook from his tight fist.

"Erik…" she said softly, her hand touching his shoulder. "I—"

Not wanting to hear her pity, he turned it off (his first instinct was to throw it at the television screen) and went straight to the kitchen… and Jack Daniels.

Christine was immediately beside him. "This is not the answer Erik. Talk to me. I told you… I'm really a good listener."

Ignoring her, he twisted the cap off and before he could take the first swig, Christine slapped the bottle from his grasp. Startled, the bottle fell to the floor and smashed into a thousand pieces.

He stared at the mess and then turned towards her. Her blue eyes were aflame with fury, her lips set in a straight line as she gazed at him, almost daring him to do something.

And he wanted to reach in for a new bottle in defiance, but knowing she would destroy it like she did. The last thing Erik wanted to do was have another broken bottle.

His next idea was physical. Yet, he never raised a hand to a woman before and this wasn't the time he wanted to try… and since she was a ghost… well, it couldn't hurt her, right?

But Christine moved faster than he could and she slapped him across the cheek.

"I don't know what happened, but I know it has something to do with _her_," she spat. "But whatever it was… Erik turning to drink isn't going to solve your problems. Then before you know it, you might do something incredibly stupid like put yourself back into the hospital."

He couldn't keep silent anymore.

Exploding, he roared, "Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?! If I want to drink, then I will fucking drink whatever I want! You have no right to run my life! Just because you were there when I tried to kill myself doesn't mean you earned the right to control what I do. You don't have a fucking clue what happened between Elena and I, and personally, it's none of your business!"

She waited until he finished before she calmly said, "Better now?"

He blinked at her incredulously. "What?"

"You yelled and told me to fuck off basically. So do you feel better now?"

"Do I…?" Erik shook his head. "Are you kidding me?"

She shrugged. "Clearly you looked like you need to yell. Not that you don't do that enough already, but this is different. And for the record, I do not think I have the 'right to control' you. But you certainly are behaving more like a child than an adult and I might have to step in if you insist that alcohol is going to be all you need for the pain to go away. I will even go so far to say that in this mood you're in… you should either call your friend or Dr. Giry. If you won't talk to me, then talk to someone else who can help. But there is no way in Hell I will let you take another sip."

To prove her threat, Christine opened the refrigerator and pulled out another bottle he stored inside. Sensing what she was about to do, Erik dive towards her but she danced away from him and in a second… the bottle was poured right into the sink.

"I was stupid to think you could have this in the apartment without being tempted. But there. It's gone now."

She looked at him with a devious grin that only boiled his blood even more. "You have no choice but to seek another way to handle your emotions. So what's it going to be? Me, your friend, or the doctor?"

Letting out a thunderous cry, Erik grabbed his head and tugged the ends of his hair before he started pacing. He had to do something or else he would end up breaking something.

Christine stayed back as he started another string of curses directed at her, the show, and then Elena.

"…The ungrateful, heartless bitch! Three years! We spent three fucking years together and after all the crap she's put me through… she winds up engaged to the first prick she sees! What? Is that boy better than me?! Of course he is! That's all she ever wanted and she couldn't accept my heart. She was the one that meant everything to me! I believed her… I _fucking believed her_…"

He lowered his head as the crushing weight came upon him as the betrayal dug deeper into his gut. His large frame shuddered as he fell to his knees, gasping desperately. As the bitter tears stung his eyes, his voice choked as he repeated in a hush tone, "Why? Why? Why Elena?"

Then, gently and tenderly, he heard the light plucks of the piano as a song began to echo around him.

Looking up, he was stunned to find Christine by the instrument. She played a song that was unfamiliar to him and he listened in wonder as his pain slowly began to ebb. The music had a calming affect that was instant and Erik found himself rising to his feet, but had to use the wall to keep him upright.

His amazement continued as she finished the song. Then Erik walked towards her and came around the piano so he could look at her.

She watched him and what she saw seemed to please her. "You're like me, you know," she said quietly. "I can have a passionate temper, but music… music always seems to be the one thing that can relax me and make me feel better whenever I'm down. My father used to tell me that music is the cure for the blues and I believe he was right."

Imploringly, she said, "Let this be the outlet you need. Feel the piano. Feel the notes and the crescendo that's building. Use that to release your pent up frustration and sadness. Drinking will only lead to more troubles."

Erik stared down at the keys. There was a time when she was right. Music was his solace, his means to escape…

Taking a deep breath, Erik gazed at her. "Thank you. I think I'm going to rest for a bit. Clear my head."

She nodded as he retired to his bedroom. Turning back to the piano, Christine lightly touched the instrument. She could only imagine the thoughts running through his mind, but she was relieved that she managed to prevent him from taking a sip. Going back into another mild, soothing song, Christine closed her eyes as she drifted back to another heated battle that took place in the very same spot she had with Erik not minutes ago…

xxXXxx

_Three Years Ago…_

_October 2009_

Storming into the apartment, Christine heard the door slam behind her and she turned around as Raoul continued.

"I don't understand this. Lately, almost every night you've been coming home late. You know the city isn't a safe place at night and you know I don't like that you're constantly taking a risk by leaving so late. I just want to know what happened that has you coming back late every single night."

She sighed, her fingers going to rub her temples. "Raoul… I told you. This is a new production and I need to practice and the best time is when I'm alone. I know it's late when I leave, but the apartment isn't far and I have my pepper spray too."

"That's beside the point," he said, running a hand through his short hair. "I would feel better that you left when everyone else does. Or at least call me so I can walk back with you."

"But it's okay for you to stay late when you're working on a case?" Christine shot back. "You don't see me calling you to check on you and bugging you on when you're coming home. This is my career Raoul. I need all the extra time I can get just like you need all the time to prep before going to court."

"They're not the same."

"Damn right they are!" Christine exclaimed, getting angrier. "I'm a big girl who has lived here all her life. I know how to take care of myself; in fact, my father made sure of it when he had me take all those self-defense classes! I don't need you to lecture me Raoul."

"I'm not supposed to care or be worried? Christine, all I'm asking is that you cut back on your time spent alone at the theatre."

There it was. The rational and calm-like voice that Raoul had perfected over the years together. The tone of voice that made Christine feel she was behaving like a little girl all over again and she done something bad.

God… she hated that.

"If you want me to spend less time working on my craft, then you're going to have to do the same. No late night research or depositions. You need to be home when I come home too. It's only fair."

And, of course, she hit the nail. "Christine… you're asking the impossible. Justice and the law don't have a set time to be over."

"Neither does music," she said, crossing her arms. "So you see? This argument, again, is pointless."

Raoul's nostrils flared a little, but as Christine began to move away, his next words caused her to freeze.

"I heard that Trussler is back in town again."

Whipping her head around, she gave him a look. "And what does that have to do with anything? It's his theatre and music that we're performing. He is allowed to go back and forth as long as he pleases."

"I know. It's just interesting he's back and you're coming home late. Again. It's a pattern I have been noticing. Well, it took me a while to figure it out, but that's the only common factor."

Christine did her best to keep from rolling her eyes. "Raoul, what are you talking about?"

"I know about the late night lesson you had with him. And I know you been hanging around, hoping he would give you another one—"

For her part, Christine kept a cool composure until she heard that accusing tone. Then she lost it. "That had been only one lesson and that was a couple years ago! He offered to give me some extra instruction. He noticed that dancing wasn't my strong suit and—"

"And he said he would help you get better roles."

Now, she rolled her eyes. "No. He did not. But he did give me some valuable advice that has helped my singing if you noticed. He's my boss Raoul and if you know anything about Erik Trussler is that he's a stickler when it comes to absolute perfection in his operas. And for you to imply… after all this time together, don't you know me? God, Raoul, I'm not that kind of person and you goddamn know that!"

"I do. I want to," he said. "But Christine… this isn't the first time. Trust me; I don't want to suspect anything. I trust you implicitly—"

"Then why are you saying that I am?!" she cried, her voice rising. "Do you really think I would _sleep _with him to get ahead?"

"I know how much this job means to you—"

Christine let out a bitter laugh. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. My fiancé thinks I'm a whore."

"I never said—" Raoul started but she cut him off.

"But you're suggesting it. Raoul, I love you so much and right now… I can't stand the sight of you. I would never jeopardize our relationship, not even for the likes of Erik Trussler. I might admire the man, even like him, but I would never ever have sex with him or any other man after I already promised myself to you. I would have given you the decency to end things before I did something like that."

"Christine…"

"No." She turned her back so he couldn't see the disgust that was on her face or the tears that were threatening to fall. "Go now Raoul. I don't want to see you."

"Shit. I'm sor—"

Before she could let him say the word, Christine whirled around and threw her ring at his chest. Raoul stared at the diamond at his feet, the horrible realization washing over him.

"As of right now," she said with such frightening serenity. "We are done. Since you clearly don't trust me or have faith in me. I got this understudy job because Andre and Firmin recognized my efforts. Erik Trussler had _nothing _to do with the promotion. And one other thing…"

Christine moved closer to him, her glaring eyes not breaking his gaze. "If you did your homework right, then you would know that he is not in Detroit. His flight was cancelled and the managers were pissed that he wasn't coming to see this new show on its opening night. So I was working my ass off to make sure that it would be absolutely perfect. You would have known… if you took the time to ask. Though honestly? I wish I was having an affair. At least it would have spared me the humiliation to know that is what you think of me."

Without giving him a chance to speak, Christine quickly went over to the piano and began playing a song to keep herself from hearing her heart breaking in half. Tears spilled as the music continued to build and she barely register him leaving the apartment.

Her tears gave way to sobs as she used the piano to mask her anguish. For ten straight minutes she played before she finally broke down, her forehead falling against the instrument as she wept. There was little that could be done to ease the hurt that she felt, knowing that Raoul thought she was some kind of slut.

And God help her… she still loved him.

She lifted her face and continued to play a gentler melody. Her sobs quieted as she put all her focus on the music. She knew she would have to talk to Raoul again. And she intended that they sit down and talk it out. Maybe… just maybe they could work it out. In fact, she knew they could. To invest so much time together… it would be silly not to attempt to work it out.

But he had a lot of apologizing and groveling to do. And she had some confessing to do. She might not have ever been physically unfaithful, but in her thoughts…

Yes. When Raoul came back, they would sit down and talk. However long it takes… Christine will talk to him and then they can put this behind them and focused on the present.

As her temper faded away, she was interrupted with a knock at the door…

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

Her reverie was broken when Erik's voice startled her.

Christine looked around and a look of confusion crossed his features.

"The lights…" he said. "They were flickering."

"Oh. Sorry," she said sheepishly, standing up. "It happens sometimes."

"I've noticed," Erik replied, tilting his head to the side. "You can do that?"

She shrugged. "Well, I don't mean to. It sort of happens. What I mean… when I get emotional, I sometimes don't have the best control and—"

"Lights flicker," he finished for her as she nodded.

"Sums it up," she said with a nervous chuckle. "Sorry if it woke you up."

"It didn't but are you all right?"

The concern surprised her (him too) and Christine glanced back at the piano. "Oh, I was just remembering a time when I had a fight with my fiancé. Not quite the one we had, but it was pretty explosive and I sat down at my piano and played until I felt better."

"You had a fiancé?"

"Don't be so shocked," Christine retorted. "I was alive and I did have a boyfriend."

"Okay but I was… a little surprised."

Christine was engaged to someone? Now… this was interesting news. Somehow, Erik couldn't see a fiancé in the picture. Not that she wasn't attractive… Christine was pretty and everything, but she was engaged when she died… And he couldn't help but think where the man was right now.

"Yes we had a fight. He left and I stayed here to calm down. If you don't mind, I think I might go to bed too."

"You're a ghost," Erik said bluntly.

"So? I can't rest?" she said. "Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

With that, Christine disappeared and Erik was left pondering the mystery that was Christine Daaé.

TBC…

Do I need to say?


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Hi everyone! Lol, I'm glad some of you liked the memory Christine had… and in case you were wondering… well, this chapter will shield some light on what happened to Christine. And I mean "some." Don't forget to review!

**Chapter 12**

_Three Years Ago…_

_April 2009_

"Oh my God… is that…"

"Yes it is!"

"Wow! I heard the rumors but I didn't think they were true!"

Curious over what the commotion was Christine followed the stares and whispers to where she saw Mr. Trussler and a young blonde woman at his side as they spoke to Firmin. She was devastatingly beautiful and there was a glow of warmth about her. Her eyes lit up when she laughed and her smile grew wider when Erik bent down to whisper something in her ear.

For whatever reason, Christine felt her stomach drop. And when the woman wrapped her arm tighter around his arm…

"I can't believe they're a couple. They're so opposite of each other!" whispered the girl next to her, distracting Christine from the sight of the blissfully happy couple.

She looked away and noticed Meg waving her to come over. Knowing her friend as well as she did, Christine had a feeling that Meg had the scoop. And for some reason, she had this urgent feeling to know exactly who that woman was.

"Do you see her?" Meg said excitingly as Christine approached her.

"Who can't?" she muttered.

"That's Elena Carlton!"

"Who?" Christine asked.

Meg rolled her eyes. "Okay, seriously, we need to integrate you into the world of modern music. Elena Carlton is the princess of pop!"

"I thought Britney Spears was."

"Yeah like five years ago. Anyways, she is one of the best singers ever."

"With everything they can do with editing and auto tuning, anyone can become one of the best singers."

"Christine," Meg said, getting annoyed. "She's a celebrity. Almost as big as Erik Trussler and they're dating!"

"Dating?" she repeated incredulously. "He doesn't date."

"Well, he is now. I've heard that they been together for a few months now. That's the longest a girl has lasted in Erik Trussler's world."

Christine took another look at this Elena Carlton and decided she didn't like her. There was something about her that didn't sit right with her. She didn't know what it was yet, but when it came to people… Christine was a pretty good reader.

Meg tapped her on the shoulder. "Earth to Christine! What is with that look?"

"What look?"

"If you could melt Elena Carlton… you could with that look. Why is this bothering you?"

"It's not," Christine insisted quickly.

"Uh-huh," Meg said, nodding slowly. "Do I have to remind you that you do have a fabulous and incredibly handsome fiancé?"

"Of course not Meg. That's ridiculous." Christine's gaze shifted to the simple diamond on her ring finger. "I just think that he could do better. Let's face it… you said she sings pop and Mr. Trussler is in the world of operas. Somehow, I doubt he's a pop fan."

"He can see whoever he wants. It doesn't matter what kind of music they belong to," Meg pointed out. "He's not your boyfriend."

"I didn't say he was."

Meg shook her head in disdain. "You know, Christine. I don't get you sometimes. You have a wonderful fiancé who wants to spend the rest of his life with you and you're getting all jealous over your boss; who by the way, you are not and have never been in a relationship with and he only gave you one lesson at night when rehearsals were over. I know every girl thinks he's hot and sexy and that's fine, but face reality Christine. He's not the one you should be focused on."

The brunette's face reddened. "I have not ever thought of him in that way Meg. I love Raoul. Can't I just express an opinion without it being analyzed?"

Before Meg could respond, the rehearsals were called to start again and Christine hurried to her spot.

Jealous?

Pffh.

She wasn't jealous. She was concerned that's all. A person can be concerned for their boss's well-being and relationships.

Besides, she did have a wonderful man in her life. So while she and Raoul might have had their differences, she did love him very much and she couldn't imagine spending her life with anyone else. He was everything she could ask for and she was lucky to have him.

So who cares if maybe she might have a crush on Erik Trussler.

Who wouldn't?

But it was perfectly harmless and Christine knew she would never act upon her feelings. Even if she wasn't engaged to Raoul… she knew realistically that the chances of her and Erik Trussler getting together were zilch. And so what if he has been dating the same woman now for months? In no time he would grow tired of her and soon a new woman would be in the spotlight with him.

At least Christine could count on Raoul to be constant in her life.

In fact, if she _were _in a relationship with Erik Trussler, then it wouldn't last long. He was a playboy while she wanted someone with commitment. So really she was better off not being with him or gaining his attention. Sure, he did do her a good service and helped her with her singing, but that's to be expected from a musical genius. But that's all it was. It had been only one singing lesson like Meg said and nothing more. It wasn't like they continued… not that they could with his erratic schedule, but she took his advice and applied it in her performances and she did practice on her own, which she had improved.

Yeah… Erik Trussler and she? No way.

"Oh!" Christine missed her cue and another dancer ran right into her. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Pay attention huh?" the dancer snapped and moved to her next spot.

Christine blushed furiously as Mr. Reyer stopped the music and Gwen ceased the counts with all eyes on her.

But the worst?

Christine looked to the audience and Erik was nowhere to be seen… but Elena Carlton was staring right at her, and her expression was anything but friendly.

"The idea in this scene is to dance, not stand there like a statue. Erik told me that opening night was approaching and this kind of inattentiveness isn't what he is looking for. I know if one of my backup dancers did that… and with this close to a show? I wouldn't want them around," she said with downright disdain.

Oh yes… Christine definitely did not like her.

xXx

_Two Months Later…_

The season, for the most part, had been going well.

Christine felt confident enough that for the next season she would be asked to be an understudy for the lead. There had been talk among the cast and she had heard once or twice from Mr. Reyer that she was certainly the fresh voice they needed. The only thing now was to convince Andre and Firmin that she was worth investing in.

Then there was Erik.

Christine thought that with the owner knowing who she was (well… he never once asked her for her name but he was sure to recognize her) that she might have a good chance in being promoted. Yet, he hardly ever was around and the several times he did come to visit the theatre he was never alone.

Elena Carlton was always at his side.

She heard that they were going through a rough patch (courtesy of Ryan Seacrest) and while she did not like the pop beauty… Christine wouldn't wish anything bad to happen to them. Clearly, Erik liked Elena and she wanted him to be happy as well.

Of course, it sounded like Christine had dated him at one point.

Truth was… he wasn't as bad as some people said he was. And he did her a kind service in helping her and he didn't have to do that even though he didn't getting anything from her.

As much as she secretly wished the lessons could resume, Christine knew she should stop obsessing over them and focus on the present. Mr. Trussler had his own life and she had hers. The lesson had been wonderful, but she had to rely on herself to obtain the position she wanted.

However that didn't keep her from hoping it would change. Since he hardly showed up at the theatre, Christine wouldn't stay late after rehearsals. But when he was in town… she would secretly stay a little longer in hope that they could have another singing lesson. Yet, even that proved pointless when Erik never stuck around to notice her.

Over time, Christine did manage to push any and all thoughts of Erik Trussler from her mind. Well, if she did think about him… it was only in a professional matter. He was her boss and it was his music they were performing. And she avoided anything personal about him (although picking up on the news from the other gossiping cast members and watching E! couldn't be helped); at least, she didn't actively sought out information on his love life.

Even she and Raoul were doing better.

They had too many fights about her working at the Trussler Opera House. While he was proud of his fiancée's talent and career, he didn't like the fact that the owner was a playboy. Even though Erik Trussler had a reputation with women, the last thing Raoul wanted was for him to even think about seducing his girlfriend!

Christine knew he was being irrational and told him so. She loved Raoul. And while she would never admit she did have a crush on her masked boss, she would never act on her feelings nor jeopardize what she had with Raoul. She wasn't stupid.

It didn't matter that Erik had a girlfriend anyways. Raoul kept insisting that it would never last and it wasn't until Erik flew to New York when he relaxed and back off.

So all was well.

At least, that was what she convinced herself to believe in. The truth was… Christine was conflicted. And the worst of it was that it was all on her. She didn't know what she wanted and she knew she was being ridiculous, but was it possible to think that something in her life wasn't right?

It was the million dollar question and she wished she knew the answer, but as it was, Christine couldn't continue in this manner.

She had what she always wanted and she should accept it and be happy. Whatever this other thing was it wasn't healthy and she couldn't keep focusing on it.

Of course, the last thing Christine expected was to find herself once again alone with Mr. Trussler.

She arrived at the theatre early to practice when she nearly lost her balance when she saw the familiar gleam of the white mask in the front row. Normally, she would have the place to herself for an hour before anyone showed up, but to see _him _there and so unexpectedly…

She couldn't remember if she heard that he was flying back.

Any other person would have made their exit. He didn't notice her and so she could pretend that this never happened and come back at a later time when there were others nearby.

But not Christine.

Something took ahold of her, possessing her limbs, as she walked down the aisle. Keeping her gaze on the stage, she attempted to appear nonchalant and did a decent job in being startled when Erik turned to look at her.

"Oh! Mr. Trussler, I-I didn't see you there," she said, hoping to God that she sounded convincingly surprised. "Hello."

She could have smacked herself, but if he saw any indication that she was exaggerating, he didn't show it.

"Rather early for you to be here isn't it? You're in the chorus aren't you?"

"Yes." She pushed the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. "I wanted to get some practice done."

"Right, right," he replied, turning his face so he wasn't looking at her. "Quite the dedication you have."

Christine couldn't tell what he meant by that. While the words seemed like a compliment, his tone didn't imply that meaning.

Then again, she should excuse herself and continue what she planned on doing, but for some reason Christine remained where she stood.

"I didn't know you were coming back to Detroit. The managers didn't say—"

"Yes, well, one can come and go whenever they please."

Her face flushed scarlet and while her mind was screaming at her to just leave the man be since he wasn't in the mood for conversation… she couldn't. What the Hell was wrong with her? What in the world was she doing?

"It'll be a pleasant surprise. And certainly it will keep everyone on their toes. Don't tell anyone I told you so but some of the singers and dancers have been taking it easy. With the great run we've been having so far, I'm afraid that not everyone feels they need to be at their 100% best."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Once again, reason was telling Christine to leave. It was evident that he wasn't in the mood to talk and here she was making an attempt at small talk. In fact, she was ready to say goodbye and salvage what little of her dignity she had left when she inspected him closely.

The mask didn't give anything away, but there was something in his eyes that made him appear so… distant.

Something was bothering him.

And like that, Christine tossed away her doubts and her embarrassment and took a seat by him. She made sure there was a chair between them and gazed at him with concern.

"Is something wrong Mr. Trussler? You don't seem well."

"I'm fine. Don't let me get in your way of rehearsing. Pretend like I'm not even here."

"I'm sorry but that'll be hard to do," Christine said. "I don't mean to sound rude or nosy, but something is off and I've been told I'm a great listener." When he turned to look at her, she quickly amended, "That is… if you want to talk about it."

"Look," he sighed. "I appreciate the concern and all, but I do not wish to speak to you about what is going on in my life."

"It's about Elena Carlton isn't it?" Christine blurted out. "Sorry but it looked like it was a girl problem."

Erik rose from his seat and just as he was about to say something else to the meddling girl; Christine beat him to the punch.

"I'm sure whatever it was, it will get better. A lot of couples hit a rough patch, but they make it work. I wouldn't feel bad about it, but escaping the issues will only make it worse."

He stared at her and closed his mouth. Then, he spoke:

"You don't take a hint, do you?"

She sheepishly chuckled. "Well, I have been told many times I need to stop getting involved in matters that don't concern me, but I can't help it. When I see a friend in need, I want to help. There's no crime in that."

"A friend?" he repeated.

Christine ignored the question. "Anyways, I wouldn't beat myself up over it. Do you care for her?"

Stunned, and a bit speechless, Erik sat down once again. He didn't know what to make of this woman and the fact she zeroed on the problem was unnerving. Yet, while she was a stranger, she didn't know the particulars and she could offer impartial advice. It would be refreshing to hear someone else rather than Nadir.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Very much. But it's not easy."

"No relationships are," she answered. "If they were, then they wouldn't be as half as exciting."

"Yes, well, I suppose you're right."

Christine grinned. "Look, whatever it is, I'm sure the two of you can work it out."

"You don't even know what 'it' is."

"No but you love her… right?" At his nod, then she added, "Then you have it. Of course, staying here isn't going to get her back. I'm sure you will have a lot of groveling to do. Word of advice… a girl cannot stay angry for long when she has a man at his knees begging for forgiveness. That…" Here she paused knowing she captured his full attention. "And jewelry. Something nice. But don't go overboard and do not get her a diamond. Sapphires would be safe and what girl can say no to a pretty gem?"

He surprised her by barking out a laugh. "Is that all? I never thought women were that easy to please."

"Only the ones who have a guy that is willing to make it work."

He tapped his chin as in lost in thought and smirked. "That is good advice. Thank you."

"No problem." Christine rose and slung her bag over her shoulder. As she made the move, his sight was immediately drawn to the sparkling diamond glittering from her left hand.

"I see you are speaking from experience. That is good at least." Erik pointed to her ring and Christine looked down at it, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Yes, well, I didn't get this because we had a fight."

"I would guess not since you said no diamonds. Congratulations."

"Thank you," she said in earnest. For a moment, they both stared into each other's eyes. She couldn't explain why she was giving Erik Trussler relationship advice above all things, especially since…

Yes, she did not like Elena Carlton, but he must have seen something good in her and it had to be a pretty damn good thing too since here he was upset that there was trouble in paradise. Christine might have a crush on him, but she wasn't stupid and she wasn't going to do anything that could be damaging to the both of them. Of course, that would only be if he was interested in her too, but she wasn't going to dive into that fantasy. What she had was a real man who loved her and she couldn't ask for anything more than that.

She blinked, breaking the gaze, and turned around as she started to walk away. Once back in the aisle, she looked back at him and offered him a reassuring smile.

"Go get her Mr. Trussler. If she loves you just as much as you love her, then it'll work out."

With that, Christine walked to the stage and disappeared behind the curtains to set her bag down and put her ballet shoes on. By the time she reappeared on stage, he was gone.

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

He shouldn't be doing this, but it was something he had to do to make sure it was really her.

There was no doubt in Erik's mind that Christine Daaé had been the girl he did briefly help during the evening after rehearsals. And he did remember that she spoke about a boyfriend and it was quite possible they were engaged. But something didn't sit well with him and here he was in the storage room going through the filing cabinets for her file.

Everything about the opera house… financial records to former employees was kept in here. Only Erik and Nadir had the keys to this office, and while he had every right to be in here, Erik couldn't help but feel like an intruder.

And wasn't he?

He could easily ask Christine what he wanted to know, but then she would want to know why his sudden interest about her. He couldn't explain it himself, yet this seemed like the safest route.

It took him a couple of hours, but he did find Christine Daaé's personnel file. Holding the folder tightly to his chest, Erik looked around to make sure he was alone. The last thing he wanted was for Christine to suddenly pop up out of nowhere.

When all looked clear, he stole away to his office so he could read through it in private. Sitting at his desk Erik carefully opened the file and the first sight that greeted him was her headshot. It was undeniably eerie at how little Christine had aged from the day he hired her until now in her ghostly state. Even the smile was haunting to him knowing that the lively young woman in that picture was dead and gone.

Quickly, Erik pulled the picture from its paperclip and turned it over so he wouldn't have to look at it anymore. Just seeing the living proof was tragic in itself, especially when she had the capability of having such potential…

Erik shook his head, getting rid of those thoughts, and unclasped the rest of the papers. Her resume was—had been—impressive. He never read any of the papers of his employees… that was Nadir's job and as Erik read through her background, he wished he had a long time ago.

Like Erik, she was a native to Detroit. She traveled around the world, attending schools in France, Sweden, and England before finally returning to Michigan where she graduated from high school. From there she went to Juilliard and earned a Bachelor's in Music with the Artist Diploma in Opera Studies. She earned all top scores and managed to score the leading role in every major production that was put on. Her repertoire and fluency in Italian, French, and German was astounding. From the looks of her transcript, she had been training for this for a long time and her recommendation letters were full of praises. In one letter, there was a comment about her father… a Gustave Daaé and how she was certainly a child brought up well in the world of classical music.

Gustave Daaé…

Now, that name sounded familiar too.

Putting down the file, Erik did a quick search online and learned that Gustave was no other than the Gustave Daaé the violinist. He had seen the man performed many years ago and was impressed with his skill with the instrument. He had no idea that he had a daughter.

And to think… she had been a part of his chorus this whole time.

But then again, Gustave had died before Erik hired her so he didn't put two and two together.

Returning back to her file, Erik had no doubt that Christine was born to be the leading act. Just recalling her singing… she was the star that he had been searching for. Her voice… was so pure, so angelic that Erik slammed his fist down on his desk, cursing his indifference for not knowing what a gem he had in his theater.

Would that have changed things?

He didn't know but a part of him hoped it would have made some difference in whether or not she had lived.

Then again… as he read through the very end he found a mark that said she was deceased. There was nothing else after that. Nothing to share what the cause of death was and the question burned in his thoughts.

What did she die of? He didn't remember if she was sick, but it was certainly sudden that was for certain. Once news reached him that he had a chorus girl that died, Erik also learned the sad state of affairs his theatre was in and flew out to correct the wrongs.

He had never questioned the matter of death only that he had made a callous and heartless comment that she had chosen a poor time of dying in the middle of a season.

What a jackass.

Erik tidied the papers and placed them back like before and he turned over the photo so he could look at her. His finger rested on her cheek as he dragged the tip, tracing her jaw and chin.

"There you are!"

Erik jumped in his seat, looking up to find Nadir in the doorway. The Iranian frowned. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said quickly and closed the file.

Nadir stepped inside, closing the door, and walked closer to his desk. "What is that you are looking at?"

Erik thought about brushing it off with some sarcastic remark, but then an idea popped into his head. Nadir might know something about Christine's death. He was here at the time and he might have remembered hearing about what had happened to her.

"Nadir, are you sure you don't remember a chorus girl by the name of Christine Daaé?"

"It sounds familiar but why do you want to know?" Nadir asked and watched as Erik opened the file to show him the picture.

Nadir took a closer look as slowly recognition poured over his features. "I remember her now. Allah… how could I have forgotten? She spent countless hours practicing after shows and rehearsals. She had a dedication unlike any other performer I have ever seen in my years working in this business."

"Yes but what happened to her?"

Nadir glanced up at his friend, his expression quizzical. "Why this sudden interest? Erik, she's been dead for a few years now."

"I know, I know," Erik replied in frustration. "It's… Look, I want to know. Just tell me the details."

"The details?" Nadir repeated. Scratching his head, Nadir thought hard. "Honestly? I don't recall everything, but that the news was shocking and a few of the chorus members took her death rather hard."

"Was she ill?" he asked quietly.

The other man paused and then shook his head. "No. She wasn't sick."

"So what? She passed away in her sleep?"

"No. It was nothing like that," Nadir said. "It was horrible I do remember. But unfortunately… you know the reputation of this city. It's shocking but at the same time it's not."

"Out with it man!" Erik exclaimed, growing impatient that he wasn't getting to the point. "What happened to her?"

"She was murdered."

TBC…

Dun dun dun dun!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Hi everyone! I didn't forget you I promise! Just suffering from writer's block, life, and work… Every time I think the load might get lightened something else comes along and throws a wrench in that idea. I'm not saying or promising anything, lest I jinx myself. But I made a point to get this ready for you as a birthday present from me to you. Thank you all for following and reviewing and simply reading!

**Chapter 13**

"She was murdered."

Hearing those three words caused Erik's blood to run cold. Murdered? She was…

He couldn't believe it. Of all the ways to die…

Of course, Christine had said she couldn't remember how she died. In that case, was she even aware that she was killed? Did she see her murderer at all?

So many questions were flying through his mind, but his anger suddenly ignited. Who would murder such a creature? Did that person know who she was? Or what she was going to become?

"That fucking bastard!" he exploded.

Nadir, startled by the change in his friend's temper, was confused as to why Erik was emotional over this particular girl.

"Erik, I know it's terrible, but shit like this happens. There's nothing no one could have done."

"Was the son of a bitch captured?"

Sadly, Nadir looked down. "No. The police didn't even have a suspect in mind. Whoever it was… they got away."

Erik closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten. He knew losing his temper even more wasn't going to solve anything and while he was ready to go out and find this rotten piece of shit… he knew he couldn't explain the truth to Nadir about his personal involvement.

No.

He had to be silent about this and so he opened his eyes as he regretfully murmured, "She could have been successful here. She could have been the singer we needed to jumpstart the theatre."

"I don't know about that," Nadir said. "We did fine with Virginia. Erik, there's no use in going through the past. What happened to her was horrible and it was unfortunate, but there is nothing none of us could have done. It was her time and maybe you're right… maybe she could have become our leading soprano, but who's to say what could have been?"

Erik sighed deeply. "Yes. I suppose you're right."

Nadir cocked his head to the side and raised his brow. "Erik… are you sure you're all right?"

Erik stood from his desk. "Like you said Nadir… it's in the past."

xxXXxx

Yet, as hard as he tried, Erik couldn't forget what Nadir told him. And the insatiable need to learn more consumed him. He convinced Nadir that he was fine and that it was only a regret he had of not taking the time to learn what had happened to the young singer after the close encounter with death he recently had.

The Iranian seemed to buy it and left him. Once alone, Erik went back onto his computer and since her death wasn't too long ago, he was able to find a few articles about her.

According to the police it had been a burglary and either Christine surprised them by coming home or she was there and they shamelessly murdered her to avoid any witnesses. And it would seem that the bastard was lucky as no one reported a disturbance or seen anyone suspicious in the building that day.

The part that Erik read that was the most difficult was the cause of death. She had been shot in the back so there was a good chance she never saw her assailant. But then again… it would mean she hadn't walked in during the robbery. If she had, the gunshot would be in her chest or something and she would have seen her killer. Unless, they snuck up behind her when she wasn't looking…

As for what went missing… well, Erik didn't bother with the details. He found what he wanted to know and he didn't know what he was expecting with the knowledge. What could he do? As much as he wanted to rage and scream and break something… there was nothing he could do to change things.

Christine was dead.

_But in a way she's not_, his mind whispered. _She's a ghost… yes, but she is still in this world._

However, the thought was not a comfort. Christine didn't deserve to die like that. Truthfully, no one did but she remained here in this existence caught between the living and the dead. She couldn't move on and therein laid the problem. She didn't have peace and it wasn't fair to punish her like this. What in the world could she have done to deserve this treatment?

Erik may not have been a God fearing person, but the injustice of it gnawed at him. How could He allow her to suffer all alone when she was a victim from the start? Some Savior He was…

The article concluded that her fiancé, Raoul de Chagny, was being questioned by the police.

The second article was similar to the first about the events, but it appeared that the mourning husband-to-be was released and there was no evidence to suggest he had anything to do with Christine's death. The others he found had comments from people who had known the young woman, saying she was kind and talented and that she was well-loved and admired by those she met. Even her best friend, Meg Gallagher, only had words of love and sorrow over the loss.

The remaining articles were snippets of updates on the case. They revealed nothing and eventually nothing else was found about Christine Daaé.

It would seem that she became a cold case.

Erik covered his face, his fingers sliding up into his hair as he pulled on the roots. Shaking his head, he didn't know what to do.

While there was nothing, Erik felt like he should do something for her. Yet, Christine wasn't the type to accept his pity, and neither was he, but something was wrong with this picture.

He couldn't sit idly and say oh well he tried.

If only there was a strong lead…

Erik lifted his gaze and was drawn to her fiancé's name. Yes the police did question him, but could the boy know something?

In fact, Raoul de Chagny was a lawyer and he was still living right here in Detroit. Surely Erik could…

Well, before he did anything, there was one person he needed to speak to.

xxXXxx

Christine was waiting for him to return and she greeted him warmly.

"Hello Erik!" she chirped. "As you can see, I did not turn on the TV." She nodded to the silent TV set.

He looked over and gave a short nod, although right now he couldn't care less if she did or not. "That's great. Uh, Christine?"

She was in the kitchen and to his bewilderment… she looked like she was cooking. Or attempting to anyways.

"Damnit!" she swore as her hand went through the knife on the counter. "I had no problem beforehand. Okay…" She tried again and was successful in picking it up and going about cutting up carrots. "You have been eating too much of those frozen meals and I thank God that you did have real food here, otherwise I wouldn't be able to do this. I figured homemade chicken noodle soup would be easy enough."

She set the knife down and scooped up the pieces of carrots and dropped them into the pot on the stove. Then she went for the ladle to stir and once again she lost the solidity of her hand to pick it up.

Before Christine could cause a power outage in the apartment, Erik quickly ran over and picked up the ladle to do the stirring on his own. She eyed him but there was no mistake in her countenance that she was upset with herself that she couldn't do a simple task.

"Don't be upset. You did well before I came in," Erik said, sending her a smile to make her feel better. "Thank you. I wasn't expecting this at all."

"I wanted to surprise you. After all, I know this can't be an easy adjustment for you. And you should know that I am a pretty damn cook. So at least I can do something around here."

He chuckled. "You don't have to."

"Yeah, well, you need to eat actual food. But I am expecting you to stock up on any ingredients since I can't do the shopping myself. If you don't, I will make myself a nuisance. I swear it."

"Point taken. The last thing I want to do is make you even more annoying than what you already are." He said it as a jest and Christine smiled, pleased that he was in a good mood.

"So what happened? Everything go according to plan?"

"Rehearsals were better than yesterday. That takes a load off my mind."

"I bet." She looked over his shoulder and inhaled the aroma wafting in the air. "It's nearly finished."

Erik turned off the stove and took out a bowl for himself. He filled it with the soup and sat down at the table as Christine took the seat next to him. She watched with gleeful anticipation as he took the first sip.

It was nothing fancy, but the soup was absolutely amazing. Erik didn't realize how hungry he was until that moment and polished off the bowl. He even had seconds.

"Now, isn't that better than Hungry Man?" Christine asked.

"Yes. I will agree you're right."

She did a fist pump in the air. "Score one for Christine!"

In spite of himself, he couldn't stop grinning. She was in a good mood all right and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin this moment of serenity… yet he had to tell her. It was only fair and she deserved to know what happened to her.

"Christine?" Erik asked, his expression becoming solemn. "Are you certain you don't remember what happened to you when you… you know?"

The pleasantry in her face suddenly dropped. "I told you before Erik. I only remember bits and pieces, but not everything."

"It's that… I learned something today about you…"

"What?" she spoke softly, a bit stunned.

"…and you have to know. You have the right to know."

At this, Christine's posture stiffened but she didn't say a word. If anything, she appeared to be more in shock.

Knowing he had to seize the opportunity, Erik came out with it. "There was a robbery in the apartment. You… you were murdered," he deadpanned.

"Murdered?" she said in that quiet tone.

"Yes," he said. "The person was never caught, but do you remember anything at all that might help? Some kind of clue to indicate who it was…"

"Oh my God… I knew but I didn't. I mean, I know I was never sick and it's not like everyday a person randomly drops dead. So murdered, huh? It makes sense. Perfect sense really. Wow…"

"Christine." Erik reached for her and as he laid his hand on top of hers, he felt only the cool warmth beneath him. Her blue eyes snapped up at his and she quickly withdrew her hand from his as if the touch burned her. He didn't know why the movement stung him, he only meant to comfort her, but that rejection did hurt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it. I just thought—"

"No, no," she said swiftly. "No, I'm glad you did. I always suspected it but I guess a part of me was scared to know for sure. That's one less piece of the mystery now."

"I wouldn't say that. Whoever did it is still roaming free."

Her eyes darkened at that statement, but as quick as it came over her, she shook it away. "Judgment will come to that person one way or another. They will be punished."

"That doesn't help now," Erik argued. "Look, there must be something you remember. Were you here when they broke into the apartment?"

Her brow creased as she thought about it. "No… No it wasn't a robbery."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," she said with a hint of impatience. "There wasn't a robbery. I was home, yes, but I was at my piano playing after I had a fight with Raoul. There was a knock at the door and I thought it was Raoul… that he must have forgotten his keys when he stormed out so I got up and went to answer it."

"And?" he pressed.

At that, Christine shrugged. "I don't know. That's where my memory blacks out. And then I woke up and I was right here and no one could see or hear me."

"Do you think it was him?" he asked excitingly. "Your fiancé?"

Christine gaped at him and then cried an emphatic "No!" From her outburst, the empty bowl on the table bounced and fell to the ground, shattering into pieces. She looked down, her eyes widened in aghast. "Oh no! I'm so sorry Erik!"

"No, don't apologize. It's okay." Erik began to pick up the pieces from the floor. Luckily, they were good sizes that he could grab and threw them away. Christine was still sitting at the table, remorse and guilt etched all over her features.

"I really am sorry. I have to control my temper."

"You're preaching to the choir." That earned him a small grin, but he knew he had to tread delicately in case Christine somehow accidentally destroyed something of value. "Are you positive it wasn't de Chagny?"

This time Christine kept herself in check. "No it wasn't him Erik. Raoul could never harm a fly let alone a human being."

"Yeah but you said you two argued…"

"Yes but every couple argues. It doesn't mean that one is going to kill the other." Christine looked down at her hands. "It wasn't him, okay? That much I can say a hundred percent."

"Christine, I get it but you have to understand that sometimes it does happen. It could be possible he was so angry that he came back—"

"No Erik," she interrupted firmly. "You didn't see him like I did. Raoul was a total wreck when I… when I was gone. He spent days, weeks, sobbing and staring at the wall. He barely left the apartment and he didn't go back to work. Eventually, he was convinced to leave so he wouldn't stay cooped up in here. I was glad he didn't lose his job, but it wasn't healthy for him to stay here. I tried speaking to him. I tried to get his attention, but nothing worked. The worst part was that he did talk to me. Yet, when I answered… he couldn't listen or he didn't want to… I don't know which one. But he did move out and I was truly alone. That is until you moved in."

She lifted her gaze and said determinedly, "Now does that sound like a person who murdered a loved one?"

Erik flinched and he knew he deserved it, but it was the only way to know whether or not if the boy was truly innocent of the crime. Christine was convinced he had nothing to do with it, yet Erik wasn't as convinced as she was. How many times had it been found that the less likely suspect was indeed the actual perpetrator? Maybe Raoul de Chagny didn't pull the trigger himself, but it didn't mean he had it orchestrated. The whole mourning could have been an act to deflect attention from himself. And it was possible that he tricked Christine into believing he was guiltless. After all, she couldn't remember all the details so perhaps this was a way to protect herself from the truth.

So many possible theories and of course the only thing Erik couldn't determine was the motive. If the fiancé was guilty, then why would he want her dead?

Of course, he wasn't going to admit this to Christine just yet.

"Erik, I appreciate the fact you wanted me to know the truth, but why bring it up? There's nothing that can be done."

"Maybe there isn't," he said. "But let's look at the facts Christine. You're still here for a reason. You haven't moved on and it's possible that you do have unfinished business—it could be that you need to learn the identity of your murderer."

"So you're saying that the reason I haven't left is because I need to solve my own murder?" she said, making sure she heard him correctly. "Erik…"

"Think about it. That had to be the thing that is holding you back."

She paused. "But you're forgetting the other thing. I saved your life."

"Yeah but you're still here. Saving my life wasn't it."

"Okay… say you're right," she said. "Perhaps I was waiting for the right person to come along who can help me solve my murder. Fine. But no offense… you're a composer. A celebrity. You're not a detective or a police officer or someone with the means to solve this. You're Erik Trussler."

"So?" he shot back. "I have plenty of resources and all I have to do is pull some strings—"

"I thank you but I don't think that's the only reason."

"What?" Now, Erik was confused. "Christine, use your common sense. I could help! I could help figure out who did this and—"

"No Erik," she interrupted again and with force. "I don't want you to do this. So let it drop."

His jaw dropped. "Are you serious? Are you telling me that a murdered victim is saying no in finding her killer?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I am," Christine stated with conviction. "I appreciate your urge for justice and all, but Erik this is something I need to do on my own. If I do have unfinished business, then it should be me to work it out. And I'm not ready."

"You're… not ready?" he said in disbelief. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means I'm not ready Erik," she replied, clenching her teeth. "So let it go."

"That is… I can't believe you're being so ridiculous Christine! I'm the only fucking person who can see and hear you and who can obviously do you some good, and you're turning it down? It doesn't make any sense to me at all! If anything, I think you want to protect yourself from ever knowing the truth. Because if you found out who really murdered you… you wouldn't be able to handle it, would you?"

Christine's eyes flashed dangerously and there was a loud popping sound. Erik jumped to see that the light bulbs in the apartment all burst. When he looked back at her, she was already gone.

TBC…


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: *steps out from hiding spot* I promise I'm not dead! Just taking a very much needed break to rest and regroup that's all. To make up for it… here's a nice long chapter! I thought about splitting it up, but decided you guys deserved a lengthy one for my absence. So here it is! But I should warn you… it's mostly flashback and Christine-Raoul centric. Yet, don't skip it. If you want… go ahead and review. *returns back to hiding spot*

**Chapter 14**

A week passed since Erik brought up Christine's unfinished business and her lack of interest in discovering who her murderer was. Of course, she might not have made herself visible to him… she did make it quite plain and clear that she was angry at him. The exploding light bulbs were only a start.

Erik found his clothing scattered over the floor, his cell in the freezer, his keys in the oven… even the remaining bottles of beers he had were all poured out and stacked together on the kitchen table. The last straw was when Erik was trying to compose and she was taking his music sheets and blowing them around the room. He was running around, jumping and snatching the sheets before any one of them should accidentally go out the window.

"Christine!" he bellowed, not caring that anyone could have heard him. "This has got to stop! Okay… I get your point now!"

"Do you?"

He whirled around to see her with her arms crossed, her chin jutted out. "Or are you saying that so I will stop?"

"Don't you think this is being childish?" Erik asked, holding his precious music sheets to his chest. "Look, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but someone had to be the adult and say the truth."

"I'm not an adult is that what you're saying?" she retorted.

"Oh for the love of… Christine, I was only thinking about your best interests. Don't you want to see your loved ones? Or what about your father?"

At the mention of her father, her expression softened. "Of course I do."

"Then why aren't you letting me help you?"

"Erik… it's not that easy, okay?"

"You're being stubborn you know that. I don't know what it is that has you so up in arms, but this has to end. Eventually, you will have to move on."

Emotions warred on her countenance and he could see that she understood what he meant, but it didn't make sense that she would be so against it in the first place. Didn't she want to move on to that better place?

At last she finally spoke. "The truth is… I think there's more to it than that. I think I have a purpose here."

"Like what?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. But I feel it in my gut."

"All right so how does that prevent you from finding out whom your killer is?"

If it were possible, there were tears in her eyes. "Because what if that's it. It sounds so obvious and so simple, yet I feel like there is more I must do before I move on. I was… am twenty-eight years-old. I'm still young and I'm just not ready to take that final step. Yes, I do want to see my family again. I want to be able to meet my mother and see my father playing his violin again so badly. But how can I when I know I'm still needed here."

She raised her hand and wiped away at her eyes. "Please Erik. Don't ask me again. When I'm ready, then I'll let you know. But for now… let's leave it be."

Erik wisely chose not to speak and nodded. This made her feel better and the sadness that was on her face soon disappeared. She looked relieved and happy that the subject was over.

Finding his voice, Erik said, "Very well. And we're… good?"

"Yes," she answered. "We're good."

"Okay. Do you mind telling me where you hid my watch?"

xxXXxx

The next day Erik left for the opera house and Christine was left to her own devices. Despite the truce made, she knew that it still bothered him that she wasn't allowing him to pursue her case. It was oddly… sweet that he wanted to find her killer and she appreciated the gesture he made, but the truth of the matter…

She was afraid to know what happened that day.

Perhaps a part of her was worried that Erik might be right… maybe Raoul had something to do with her death, but then she thought back to when he was here after her death… there was no denying the fact that he missed her so much.

Standing in the middle of the bedroom, Christine looked down at the bed and her mind drifted back to when this nightmare started.

xxXXxx

_Three Years Ago…_

_? 2009_

Christine opened her eyes, frantically looking around. The room was submerged in complete darkness and she fought to maintain some control of her senses. All she kept hearing was the thundering blast after… after…

Her brow creased as she tried to remember what it was she had been doing. She remembered her fight with Raoul and he left after she told him it was over... Then nothing. It was all blacked out.

Sitting up on the bed (_how did I get there?_) she fumbled around for the light switch. But wherever her hand landed on what should have been the wall, she felt nothing. _Odd,_ she thought.

So she tried for the door. Yet, she could not seem to grasp the knob. Becoming frustrated over her lack of doing such a simple task, Christine raised both fists and as they came crashing down on the door… she felt her whole body fall passed through it.

She caught her balance and slowly turned around to see the bedroom door behind her. Still closed.

"What the Hell?" she muttered. "Is this some kind of joke? Raoul! Raoul!"

She moved towards the family room and halted when she saw the room filled with flowers and elaborate wreaths. The blooms… while still fresh had an unusual pungent smell.

Like…

She didn't finish the thought. Was Raoul trying to make it up to her? If so… he went way overboard on the flowers.

Christine was grateful the light was on and continued to call for her fiancé.

Strange… he wasn't answering.

"Okay, Raoul… I saw the flowers. I get it. You're sorry. We both overreacted. So come out and let's talk."

She wandered around and when it was clearly evident he wasn't home, Christine shook her head. With all this trouble he went to getting all these flowers, you would think he would have stayed when she woke up.

Walking back to one floral arrangement on the coffee table, she brought her nose close to sniff the lilies. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted what looked like a card nestled in safely within the flowers. She went to pick it up, but her fingers kept sliding off the cardstock.

"Must be one of those days," she said quietly to herself and settled for reading it right where it was. "'_Sorry for your loss. May the Angels welcome her to her new home. Love, Aunt Donna and Uncle Richard._'"

Christine pulled back frowning, recognizing Raoul's family. It wasn't at all what she was expecting the card to say. What happened? Did someone they know die?

She didn't have to wait long as she heard the jiggling of the key in the lock. Looking up, a smile blossomed over her lips as Raoul entered the apartment.

"Hey hon," Christine said, rising. "I know we need to talk, but I just saw the flowers. What happened?"

He kept his back to her, shrugging out of his coat, never once returning her greeting. So Christine tried again. "Raoul. Look… we were over emotional last night but I have a clearer mind now. So c'mon honey. Turn around and talk to me."

His back stiffened and still he did not turn towards her or utter a single word.

"Raoul?" This time Christine said his name with hesitation. "I said some things that were harsh and I take it all back. We're not done. I still want to be your wife. I…"

"Christine…" he whispered as his shoulders began to quiver as he let out a sob. "Why?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I was pissed and you were jumping to these wild conclusions that I lashed out. But I had a good night's rest and I want us to work. We can make it work."

"You're gone… why? Why did you take her?"

Now, Christine's confusion deepened. "Raoul? What are you talking about? I'm right here. I'm not gone. See?"

He suddenly collapsed like he could no longer stand and continued to weep. This wasn't like him at all. Concerned, Christine ran to his side and while she reached for him… her hand went through his shoulder.

Horror crossed her face as she stared into Raoul's face as he mumbled her name over and over, and then she looked back to the flowers.

_Sorry for your loss… No… No no no no no no!_

Christine thrashed her head side to side as she pushed herself away from the grief-stricken man. No! Her hand didn't go through him. Those flowers didn't mean… they couldn't mean…

Gasping for air, Christine realized she couldn't feel anything in her chest. She couldn't feel…

A bang rattled in her head as the realization washed over her. She was dead.

xXx

To say acceptance was difficult was an understatement. Once Christine discovered that she was deceased and she was now some kind of specter… the first logical thing that came to her was to scream.

And screamed she did. Loud and long to no avail. Of course, when she realized she could keep screaming without growing hoarse, well, she stopped soon after.

But that wasn't all of it.

No… she was trapped. Quite literally.

She tried leaving the apartment and found herself with a tough obstacle: the door. She couldn't open the door and it wasn't just the front door. She couldn't open any other door to any of the rooms.

Yet, her Hell only worsened when she realized that Raoul couldn't hear her or see her. No matter how many times she called out to him, something was blocking him from responding to her.

Was this her punishment? To be so close to him yet so far away? None of this made any sense to her and as the hours passed… Christine found herself with little answers to the flood of questions that consumed her relentlessly.

The only thing she knew was that she had been dead for two weeks. Her funeral took place a couple days before she discovered this new reality of hers and Raoul hardly left the apartment.

It would have been fine if Christine was able to speak to him or touch him. Yet, her ghostly body was limited and she would find herself near him, but she couldn't do anything to comfort his anguish.

When day three of her new life started, Meg came to the apartment. At first, Christine thought she might be able to talk to her best friend, but just like before… her friend walked through her body like she was nothing but the air itself and she had to watch as Meg did her best to wake Raoul from his stupor.

It was days like this that pained Christine to observe. It was like he turned into a shell of the man she once knew and loved. He hardly slept or ate and even this short span of time… his appearance had changed greatly. His pallor was pasty and his chin was covered with coarse hair from not shaving.

"Raoul," Meg said softly, coming to sit next to him on the couch. "You didn't call liked you promised me."

"I said I would," he answered mechanically.

"It's been four days Raoul."

"What the fuck do you want from me?" he bitterly spat.

"Well," Meg said in her calm manner. "To make sure my friend is all right. You were a wreck during the funeral and with the—"

"I don't want to talk about it," he interrupted. "Go please."

"No." Meg stood and moved in front of him. "Raoul. You're not the only in mourning. She was my best friend too and it hasn't been easy for anyone, but you have to snap out of it. She wouldn't want this."

Raoul muttered something unintelligible, but it was enough for Meg's temper to snap. She seized his shoulders and shook him hard. "Goddamn you! You're doing nothing for Christine! Do you think she would be happy to see you like this?! To see you hurting yourself because of her? No! She wouldn't like it one bit and she would be telling you to get off your ass and take a fucking shower!"

That seemed to be the trick. Raoul managed to break from his depression to do as Meg asked. Christine was grateful that he did. Meg had been right. She didn't like that Raoul was wearing himself out and while there was little she could do to reach him, at least her friend was there to do what she couldn't.

The shower was a small victory. Eating was another thing. Yet, Meg did get him to eat at least half a plate of the food she brought over for him. The blonde stayed well into the evening and it was almost midnight by the time she left to go back home. Before she went, she promised Raoul she would check on him soon and that she better not find him in the same position again.

"Can't make any promises," he said. "But I'll try."

That seemed to appease her (as did Christine) and Meg left. Once alone, Christine waited to see what her fiancé would do next.

She didn't have to wait long.

He picked up his blanket from the couch and started to walk to their bedroom. Lately, he had been sleeping on the couch and as he got closer to the door… a look of unimaginable sorrow came over him and he quickly retreated to the couch.

He wasn't ready.

And neither was Christine.

xXx

_Two hours later…_

"Christine… oh God… Christine…"

Immediately, she appeared and went over to Raoul's side. Falling to her knees, Christine reached out to touch his forehead. However, like every time she attempted to touch him… her fingers would go through him.

Pulling back, Christine laid her hand in her lap as she listened to her fiancé weep for her.

"Why? Why did you leave me Christine? Why?"

His heartbroken plea only twisted the knife in her heart and she wished she knew. She wished she knew what God's plan was to take her away and if… if only she could comfort the man she loved.

Alas, her prayers went unanswered.

xXx

True to her word, Meg came back a couple days later and was pleased to see that Raoul still looked human. Of course, he had to admit that the uncleanliness wasn't a walk in the park for him either and had the nerve to be embarrassed about his lack of hygiene in front of her.

"I can't believe she's gone Meg. I just…"

"I know," the blonde said. "But we need to take each day at a time. Can you do that?"

He nodded. "I'll try."

They talked for a while, but it was an effort that Raoul wasn't really in the mood for and the conversation kept reverting back to Christine and memories of her.

It was still too painful to talk about the memories. Meg let it go and said she would call later.

She did and it was a short phone call, but at least it was the kind of distraction he needed at the moment.

But whatever it was Meg said… Raoul went back to the bedroom. This time he opened the door and stepped in for a minute before turning back and going to sleep on the couch.

It was a work in progress after all.

xXx

The pattern continued. Meg would stop by almost every day to see how Raoul was doing and each visit… she would try to get him to leave the apartment. Being cooped up in the apartment wasn't good for him and since Christine wasn't making any leeway with her attempts to communicate with him, she wanted him to go and get some fresh air. She was afraid that he would drive himself sick… or worse.

Eventually, the blonde did succeed in having Raoul leave for short trips. During these times, Christine took advantage of the opportunity to practice something of her own.

She had a long time to think and since she was a ghost… she should be able to do certain things. After all, she had seen enough shows to know that ghosts can make their presence known to the living. She just had to try and with Raoul gone… she could devote all her energy on one task.

It took her hours, but she believed she was able to make her hand solid.

_Later that night…_

"Ch-Christine…" Raoul wept brokenly.

This time, Christine stood over him, and with a deep concentration she stretched out her hand once again. She willed herself to become solid, to become real so she could touch him… so she could tell him that she was right there beside him. Closer she came to his cheek… she could practically see the tear streaks glistening from the moon seeping through the glass door. And for a quick flash… she could have sworn the moonlight did not go through her.

This was her chance!

Christine pressed her fingers along his jaw and she felt him stiffened beneath her touch. She let out a gasp, a joyful sob, and she called his name, "Raoul! I'm here Raoul!"

But the moment faded. He did not wake up nor did he give notice that he heard her.

Her hand fell back and Christine moved so she could look up at the ceiling.

"Why God?" she whispered. "Why can't I feel him? Why can't he hear me? Please… please give me this chance. I want him to know that I'm here. Why is that so difficult? Why won't You let me do this? Why?"

Her pleas went unanswered.

xXx

Near the end of the week, Meg came to see Raoul and spent most of the day with him. This time… they were reminiscing about Christine.

Of course, Christine sat not far from them and listened with tears in her eyes. A part of her felt selfish for wanting to hear what they had to say about her, but at the same time, it was also a punishment. She blamed herself for leaving Raoul, leaving Meg. Now, she was cursed to still be a part of their lives but without them ever knowing she was there.

When dinnertime approached, Meg suggested take-out as both were too emotional to actually cook. Raoul agreed and while they waited for their food to come, he asked her a question that had been on his mind for some time.

"Meg?"

"Hmmm?" she hummed as she set the table.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything. You've been a great help and all, and God knows how bad I was getting… but are they okay with you spending this much time away from work?"

Meg tensed and her head dropped slowly. "So have you…"

"I know," he said. "But from what Christine has told me about the theatre, they run a pretty tight ship. I don't want you to get into trouble because of me."

"I'm not." Meg turned around and sighed heavily. "I guess I should tell you. I quit."

"You—you what?" Raoul asked.

"What!?" Christine exclaimed just as shocked as her boyfriend.

"Yeah… it was too much. Going to work every day and not seeing Christine. I couldn't do it. So I quit."

"But your dancing career…"

She shrugged. "I can still have it. But it will be somewhere else. I actually have an interview in two days for a ballet company. I'm not unhappy. Actually, I'm relieved more than anything. Working at the Trussler Opera House was her dreams, not mine."

"As long as you're happy, right?" Raoul said.

The blonde gave him a small smile. "I'm getting there."

xXx

Christmas was approaching. It was always a favorite holiday of Christine's and every year she would go all out to spread the Christmas cheer around her.

But not this year.

And neither was Raoul.

None of their decorations were up and he refused to get a tree. Christine didn't like this. She knew he was still mourning over her loss, but he knew how much Christmas meant to her. Perhaps, it was a silly idea, but she was hoping if he got into the Christmas spirit then there would be a miracle of some kind. Maybe he would be able to see her at last.

She was getting better now with her ability to move objects. However, it didn't always work at her command when she wanted them to, but it was all a work in progress. And now that Meg was busy at the Detroit Opera House, Raoul quickly returned to his old habit and rarely left the apartment. So practicing her newfound skill she had to be sneaky and careful. Working in a different room, she would practice for hours, only stopping when she heard Raoul call out to her or when she wanted to check on him to make sure he was all right.

He had his good days and bad days, but with the approaching of the holiday, he had been having way too many bad days.

As for her other attempts of communicating…

Well, it was wishful thinking on her half, but she thought that now and then Raoul might have heard her. He never came out and asked if it was her, but there would be a slight twitch on his visage or a quick dart from the corner of his eye… it was that kind of attention that she desperately craved for. And if she could make him aware of her presence… then she might be able to talk freely with him.

She set about on her mission by first using the bathroom mirror. The steam from the shower would fog up the glass and what better way to get a message across?

While he showered, Christine stood by the mirror as she watched the condensation dripped down the pane. When the glass was covered, she lifted her finger and began to slide it over to make his name. It was a slow process as her finger would lose the mass and become transparent. She was able to draw an "R" and was about to get started on the next letter of his name when the shower was turned off.

Christine made a mad dash to finish the rest of her message, but Raoul stepped out from the tub and grabbed a towel. She waited with abated breath as she watched him go over to the mirror. All she managed to write was R-a and half of the letter 'o' and he frowned at it.

This was it!

She crossed her fingers, waiting for him to say her name…

Instead, he took his hand and wiped it away before going back to his ablations. He never once said anything about it and Christine angrily flew past him, hoping to stir a cold breeze, yet Raoul didn't pay any heed.

Clearly, she had more practice to do if she wanted to send him a written message.

Her next attempt was to talk to him while he slept. Perhaps he would be more receptive if he wasn't fully conscious.

As he slept fitfully, Christine bent her lips over to his ear to whisper to him. She repeated her words throughout the night, hoping a part of it would stick with him. The following morning she stepped back to see if it worked, and Raoul went about his routine. He didn't call to her nor did he seem to be any different.

Yet, one thing did change. That night he returned to their bedroom and he actually spent the night sleeping there.

Well, it hadn't been the results she was looking for, but at least it was something.

One day, Meg came over for her weekly visit.

"Raoul, you know there are only a couple weeks left before Christmas," the blonde said as she entered the apartment. "Why don't you put up some lights? Or get a small tree? You know how much Christine loved it."

"I'm not in a celebrating mood," he said gruffly walking past her to go into the kitchen for a beer. "I can't, all right? It's too soon."

"Yeah but Raoul… sitting here all day and all night isn't helping either."

"I don't fucking care," he shot back. "It reminds me too much of her. I can't and that's it."

Meg sighed. "Well, how about a snowman somewhere? It's wintery."

Raoul was going to protest, but decided not to. "Fine. One snowman decoration and that's it."

"Good! Because I bought this for you." Meg reached into one of the several bags she brought in and pulled out a snowman statue. It wasn't very big, but he had a black hat and blue scarf around its neck. "I'll put it right here." She went over to the mantle by the fireplace and set it on top. "There. Christine would have loved it."

Raoul looked at it and sadly nodded. "She would."

Meg turned around and slapped her hands together. "All right. I figured I would make us some dinner. Hope you're hungry for chicken parm."

"Thanks Meg, but I'll pass this time."

"Raoul, this isn't good for you. You were making good progress and now… You know Christine wouldn't like it if you were wasting away, especially over her. I know you miss her. I do too, but you have to understand that this isn't going to bring her back."

Raoul took a big gulp of his beer as his eyes watered. "I know Meg. I still think that I'm living some kind of nightmare world and when I wake up she's going to be right there lying beside me. And I would tell her what happened and she would laugh at me for worrying over something that wasn't real. But every time I wake… she's not there. She's never there."

Sympathy came over the blonde's face and she went over to give him a hug. Holding Raoul tight, Meg whispered, "It's all right Raoul. It's all right."

His arms went around her and he squeezed her to his body as he let out a sob. "I miss her so goddamn much! I keep asking God why He couldn't have taken me instead. Why didn't I stay at home? If I did… then maybe, maybe she never would have died."

Meg pulled back and held his face. "Listen to me Raoul. Do not blame yourself, okay? You're not at fault."

"But—"

"No buts," she said firmly. "Christine wouldn't like it and you know I'm right. It's not fair but we can't go back into the past. We have to accept what happened and move on with our lives. That's what she would have wanted."

Raoul sniffed, nodding as he wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "Thank you Meg. You're a wonderful friend. I don't deserve you."

Meg gave him a tiny smile before she went back and put away all the groceries. Once she was done, she started to make dinner.

Christine sat next to Raoul on the couch, staring at him as he seemed to withdraw in himself once more. It grieved her to see him like this and for him to think that she wasn't there anymore…

"Oh Raoul," she said on a sigh. "I am here. If only you could open your mind. I am always here."

And like always… he never knew she was so close.

xXx

_Christmas Day 2009_

Already it's been over a month since Christine had passed and while Christmas brought her happiness… there was only sorrow as she watched Raoul pull out a couple of wrapped presents from the bedroom closet.

He held both boxes closely as he shuffled out to the living room and took his usual seat on the couch. He gently placed the gifts on the coffee table, a tear rolling down his blondish fuzz on his face. As it grew closer to the holiday, Raoul chose not to shave and while Christine loved a little bit of gruff on a man, he looked absolutely ragged and the beard made him unrecognizable.

She knew one of the boxes right away. It was a present from her to him that she wrapped in advance. Raoul could sometimes be like a little boy and would go searching for gifts so she got into the habit of wrapping presents once she bought them to avoid a snooping eye. The grinning Santa Clauses stared up at him and for a brief second… a look of anger cast over his features.

But as quickly as it came… it faded and he raised one shaky hand to pick it up. Raoul continued to look at it, as if contemplating if he should open it or not. He decided against it as he set it back on the table and picked up his gift to her.

Christine couldn't look away as Raoul unwrap that one. She let out a gasp when she saw it was her father's violin, all pristine and shiny like a brand new one.

Months ago the violin fell into an unfortunate accident and it was badly damaged. Christine was bereft that the chances of it being repaired were slim. She was told that it wouldn't be salvaged. Unable to bear the thought of throwing it out herself, she had asked Raoul to do it for her. But it would seem that Raoul found someone who was able to fix the instrument and he was going to give it back to her.

There was no doubt in her mind that it cost Raoul a fortune to have it restored. No words could describe her gratitude and pleasure of seeing that beloved violin back in its former glory.

She actually forgot her current disposition and went over to pick it up, but as soon as her arms disappeared through it… her harsh reality hit her and she fell back in her seat as tears streamed down her face.

Bad enough she couldn't comfort her fiancé but not to touch her father's instrument? It killed her even more.

Yet, to her surprise, Raoul picked it up and the bow.

Now… this was curious. Raoul never played an instrument in his life and he could hardly stay in tune when he sang aloud.

He placed the violin against his shoulder, tucking it beneath his chin, and he raised the bow to play a soft melody.

He took lessons too… Not only did he fix the violin, but he learned how to play for her.

Christine was amazed and speechless as Raoul continued his mournful song. When he finished, he opened his eyes and quietly spoke:

"Christine… if you're there… Merry Christmas."

Raoul set the violin back in its package and closed it back up. He didn't say a word about the violin nor did he take it out when Meg came over to get him to go out with some friends. He reluctantly did leave the apartment and when he was gone… Christine tried to pick up the violin again.

This time she was successful and she hugged the instrument to her heart.

xXx

_New Year's Eve 2009_

Raoul opted out from going to his firm's New Year's party and chose to stay in the apartment. As soon as the clock read 12:00, Raoul lifted a bottle of beer in the air.

"Happy New Year's Christine," he said to the empty space.

Sitting in front of him, Christine murmured, "Happy New Year's Raoul."

xXx

"Seriously Raoul… you have to leave this apartment. Sitting here like this day in and day out isn't good for you," scolded Meg. "It has been three months. What about work?"

"Work?" Raoul repeated incredulously. "Who can think about work?"

"Raoul," Meg said with a hint of impatience and irritation. "You need to get back into your routine. It's a godsend that no one has called to say you're fired. Yet."

"Go away Meg."

"No." The blonde grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards the bedroom. "You're going to get dressed. I mean dressed and we are going to go to work. I'll drop you off and pick you up when I'm done at the theatre."

"You're not my mother Meg. I'm a grown man for Pete's sake," Raoul muttered.

"Yes, well, 'grown man' you need to grow up. This moping and sulking isn't going to do you any favors. Now get your ass in there and put some clothes on. Or do I have to dress you myself?"

That got through him and Raoul mumbled all sorts of curses as he went in to do as he was told.

"Thank you Meg," Christine said. "He needs to go to work."

Of course, she didn't hear her.

Ten minutes later, Raoul emerged in a suit and tie. His hair was combed back and he looked pretty presentable. He hurried past Meg to grab his suitcase and grumbled, "Let's get this over with."

With a beaming smile, Meg followed him out.

xXx

Christine was still limited in what she could and could not do. While her attempts to make contact have gone unnoticed, she was forced to be an observer of Raoul and her friends. She did make some progress in leaving the apartment, but she could only go as far as the main doors. She was still trapped but at least she could move beyond her apartment, which was a nice pace.

So when Raoul would leave to go to work, Christine would practice walking around the complex and testing her limits to go outside. She didn't understand how she was granted this small form of freedom or how it was done, but she decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She took what she could and focused her strength on stretching her legs out further.

She did come to the realization that the farther she was from the apartment, she would feel this unexplainable sense of loss and when she would reappear back within the boundaries… she felt safe and secure. Perhaps since it was where she had died she had a connection to the location and being apart was painful.

Being a ghost (at times like this) sucked and she would give anything to be able to move about freely without consequence. She wanted to see Raoul in his element in the courtroom, and most of all, she wanted to see the Trussler Opera House.

Since her passing, she hadn't given much thought about the theater or the people there. All her time was consumed with contacting Raoul and her little world in the apartment that she never once thought about Erik Trussler or his music.

Now…

More than anything she missed the music. She missed singing and being on the stage. Her whole life she was preparing for her moment to shine and she was so close to achieving that dream. All she had left to remember was that brief feeling of ecstasy when she took center stage for one night… the very same night that changed her life forever.

Then in one swift split second everything ended.

She wondered if Erik Trussler knew if it had been her those times they spent together alone in the theater. Did he shed a tear for her? Or did he even care?

Those were the questions Christine would never know the answers to.

As for the masked composer, Christine only heard about him from the various entertainment shows. She heard about how he and Elena Carlton broke up and got back together at least several times and she thought back to that day when she advised him not to let her go. Christine couldn't help but think if she gave him the best advice after all, yet they would always come back and when they did… he looked genuinely happy.

As for Elena… it appeared she wasn't as thrilled or happy as he seemed to be. Of course, no one noticed this. No… Christine could tell in her eyes that she wasn't as eager to be in the relationship as Erik Trussler was. Naturally, her first dislike of her only grew. This woman did not deserve him and Christine found herself pretending what it would be like to be Erik Trussler's girlfriend.

This filled with her shame for the man she pledged to be with continued to mourn for her and here she was… as a ghost no less… fantasizing about another man.

What was it about Erik Trussler that drew her to him?

With all the time she had, Christine would study him from the television freely without the worry that Raoul might catch her. The one thing that she kept eyeing was his mask. It was no secret or surprise that many have conjecture what lay beneath the white porcelain. For as long as Christine could remember there have been speculations and rumors about his face. No one had ever seen behind the mask and it only caused the mystery and curiosity to grow among all who have met him and from tabloids all over the world.

Even in death, Christine was curious to see what he was hiding. But more than that… she could see past the façade he had created and wanted to know why this man suffered as much as he did. What secrets did he guard so closely to keep anyone from finding out?

And why couldn't she get the man out of her mind?

xXx

_April 2010_

"I have given the idea some thought," Raoul told Meg.

"What idea?" Christine questioned but then mentally slapped herself because no one heard her. And, of course, they weren't going to answer her.

"I'm glad!" Meg said with a cheerful smile. "I really think it's for the best you do this."

"Do what?" Christine asked, coming to stand by the table where they sat. "How come I didn't hear this before? What have you two been talking about?"

The last couple of months Raoul was spending less and less time at the apartment. He was always home at a decent hour and slept and ate there, but lately he was starting to work late hours again and he was spending time with his friends. He was even hanging out with Meg more often.

Christine hadn't thought anything bad about it. She was actually pleased that Raoul was living a healthier life. That's all she wanted was for him to start smiling and laughing again. Now… she was afraid.

"I have thought about it from time to time, but I couldn't do it because I kept thinking… what if she knows? What if she's still here? How will that make her feel?" Raoul stood and went over to the counter to pour a mug of coffee. Leaning against it, he took a sip. "I know how that sounds, Meg, and I wish to God I had at least one sign. Something from her."

"Hello!" Christine shouted, waving her arms. "I have been! You weren't listening! So stop that crap you're pulling Raoul."

"I know you did," Meg said softly. "But we have to remember… she's in a better place and more than likely she has found her peace."

"I haven't found shit!" Christine rolled her eyes and dropped her head on the table, banging it gently. "Some afterlife this is turning out. C'mon you guys… tell me what in the world is going on?"

"That's what I keep telling myself every day," Raoul said with a sad smile. "I miss her Meg. I'll always will. But I think it's time I make some changes. I can't keep mourning Christine for the rest of my life. It's not doing me any favors and I know she wouldn't like it if I continue to drive myself crazy with grief. In fact, I think I did get a message from her after all. Last night."

At this Christine perked up. "I did? What did I say?" She did stop in her attempts when it wasn't getting her anywhere, but was it possible that something she said stuck with him? And now he was finally hearing her at last?

"What was it?" Meg asked.

"Shhh!" Christine hushed. "I want to hear what he has to say."

"I had a dream and I heard Christine's father's violin playing this song. It was a very distinct one that Christine would often sing to herself. Do you remember her stories about Little Lotte and the Angel of Music?"

"Of course," Meg replied. "Her father told her those stories all the time."

"Yes, I know, and it was that one song I heard in my dream. Then I knew. I knew what I had to do."

"What? What!?" Christine cried impatiently.

"It's time I moved out of here and found somewhere else to live."

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

That had been one of the worst days in her new ghostly existence. For Raoul to move? How would she be able to watch over him? To make sure he was all right?

She didn't like it but there was nothing she could do to stop him. He had already found a place and he had the plans to move out that following week.

So with a heavy heart, Christine was forced to watch Raoul packed up everything he owned and he even sold some of her furniture that she purchased before they moved in together. Even her beloved piano was sold and she prayed that he wouldn't sell her father's violin. If he did… that would crush her more than anything and she wouldn't know how to forgive him.

Thankfully, he did not.

Instead, he took the violin with him. He told Meg this was one piece of Christine he could never give up and he would never dare part from the instrument that meant the world to her.

Christine had to say goodbye to Raoul and her father's violin. Even to this day, she hoped that the violin was still in his possession.

She walked out to the balcony and gazed out over the city. Since Erik was able to see her, Christine hadn't thought about Raoul until now.

Did he still miss her?

Despite her preoccupation with the masked musician, Christine missed her fiancé and she wished she knew what he was doing right now.

But there was another emotion that loomed over her and it was one that filled her with dread—

Has he forgotten her?

xxXXxx

When rehearsals were underway to prepare for the night's performance, Erik stole away to his office. Despite Christine's plea for him to forget finding her murderer, he couldn't keep that promise.

He sent out several inquiries about her and was waiting back for the responses. It didn't sit right with him that her killer was out enjoying the high life while Christine remained in this mortal world. Even though they had a rocky start, Erik did like her and he respected and admired her for what she has gone through. She was an incredibly strong woman not just in death, but he had to guess in life too.

If he had known what a treasure she was… Erik wouldn't have wasted a moment and would have put her on that stage where she belonged to be adored by all. He was an idiot back then and now… Now he wanted nothing more than to do something for her. Something meaningful.

He knew she wouldn't be happy if she learned this so Erik wanted to be absolutely certain he had all the facts collected before he could go to her and tell her what he had learned. No doubt she would be furious that he went behind her back, but once she knew the truth… he had no doubt in his mind that she would be grateful.

The thought put a smile on his face.

_Knock. Knock._

Erik looked up and beckoned the guest to enter. Nervously and anxiously, the former managers Andre and Firmin came into his office. Seeing the two gentlemen, Erik couldn't prevent himself from smiling even more so that they received his message.

"Come in please. Will you shut the door? Thank you. Go on and take a seat."

Erik held out his hand as the two older men took a seat in the chairs by the desk. Their expressions were mirrored with the same look—confusion and fear that they might have misinterpreted Erik's email.

"I must say… I'm very pleased that you two showed up. After what happened last time… I was half-expecting you not to show your faces."

Firmin licked his lips and clasped his hands together. "Yes… well… imagine our surprise when we both received your email. Mr. Trussler, about last time—"

Erik waved his hand. "There is no point in bringing up that mess. What happened did happen and we'll leave it at that. No… I asked you two to come because there was a particular matter that I wanted to know and I believe you two can help me in my search."

This piqued both men. Clearly, this was not the type of meeting they thought would transpire.

"After what was done to your theater… what can we do to help?" Andre asked eagerly.

"I want you to tell me everything you know about a chorus girl by the name of Christine Daaé."

TBC…


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_Three Years Ago…_

_October 2009_

"What are we going to do? Curtain goes up in two hours and we don't have a leading lady!" Andre exclaimed as soon as he shut the door.

Firmin looked up from his desk and seeing the panic in his partner's eyes, he rolled his shoulder and clicked his tongue.

"Come now Andre. How many times have we gone through this before? Carlotta's going to perform like she always does and she's only doing this to get a rise from us. Clearly, she's not happy with the current deal we made and she wants more money."

"So what are we going to do?"

"We'll wait. She will show up because she's not ready to disappoint her audience. Wait and see. I'm right."

"I hope so," Andre replied nervously. "Because I have this feeling that this is for real."

Firmin balked. "You have to stop freaking out over every little thing. God! If anyone saw the state you're in… we would have the whole crew out there making demands too!"

Andre swallowed thickly and attempted to calm his jumpy nerves, but he couldn't stop from fidgeting. This time was different, he knew. This time… Carlotta wasn't going to sing and they would have to refund the whole show.

_An hour later…_

"We are not going to panic. We are not going to panic," mumbled a now frantic Firmin as he and Andre stood in the back of the theatre. "Where the hell is Carlotta?! She should be in make-up by now!"

"We have to think of something quick," Andre said. "We can't afford to waste any more time. We have to find someone else!"

"Right. Let's go tell Andrea she's on for tonight."

As the managers went backstage to inform the understudy she was needed, they were soon informed that Andrea wasn't there either.

"Miss Cooper! Gwen!" Firmin called out, running to catch the ballet instructor. "Why isn't Andrea here?"

Gwen looked at the two men and sighed regrettably. "I just got a text from her. It seems that unless Carlotta gets the 5% raise she wants, she's not going to perform."

"But—but she's an understudy!" Firmin cried. "She should want to take the lead!"

"I know but she's best friends with Carlotta. Jesus, you two just had to hire that overinflated diva didn't you?"

The two men had the decency to sheepishly look away. "Well, you have been here the longest. What do you advise us to do?"

"Honestly?" Gwen said. "Cancel. We need to have a lead and there's no one else who knows the role."

"And lose more money?" Firmin stated indignantly. "No… we'll get someone else to fill in."

"Like who?" Gwen responded. "You can't just pick a random girl from the chorus and say you're the lead."

Firmin glared at her. "Of course not."

A few minutes later, they were watching the other performers stretch and vocalize their warm-ups.

"Firmin… do you think this wise?" Andre asked. "Perhaps we should cancel."

"Shut up Andre!" Firmin whispered harshly. "I'm trying to make up my mind."

"Okay. How about that blonde over there? The one with the curls?" Andre pointed.

Firmin looked and shook his head. "You heard her sing before. She's a wonderful dancer, but to do this lead? It's too demanding and taxing… she'll send people home."

"What do you suggest then? Because either way… people are going to leave!"

"We need someone attractive, and of course, who has a fairly decent voice to keep some people interested." Firmin's eyes roved over the cast until he settled on a particular brunette. "Andre. That girl over there. She's walking towards the blonde you suggested. Isn't she the one that stays late?"

"Come to think of it… yeah, I believe so."

Firmin clapped his hands. "Follow me Andre. We're about to make a dream come true."

xXx

That night proved to be successful after all. No one left during the first act. Not even during intermission!

Firmin turned to Andre and nudged him with his elbow. "And you wanted to cancel… That Christine Daaé is a natural!"

Andre nodded. "You're right Firmin. And we're so fortunate that she knew the role too. To think… we had a wonderful soprano all along in the chorus."

"Yes. We are very lucky. Andre?"

"Yes?"

"I think we found a new understudy."

xXx

The next day Christine was called into the managers' office.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked politely.

"Yes we did Miss Daaé. You saved our hides last night. You were spectacular if we haven't said it already," Firmin told her, and motioned for her to sit. "Please take a seat. We have a proposition we like to discuss with you."

"As you know," Andre began. "Carlotta is the leading soprano, and Andrea, her understudy. But after last night's performance, Firmin and I were talking and we would like you to become the new understudy for Carlotta."

"You showed integrity and great patience under pressure when you agreed to sing last night. Andrea's lack of dedication to the company just proved to us that she wasn't what we needed," Firmin added. "It's a step in the right direction for your career. In fact, I think there's a good chance to have you as a lead for the next season. But we're being prematurely on this. So Miss Daaé, would you like to be the understudy?"

"Yes! Of course, I will do it!" Christine said excitingly. "Oh wow… you have no idea! Thank you Mr. Andre! Thank you Mr. Firmin!"

Both men shook her hand. "Now, just to let you know, Carlotta will be back for tonight's performance. It seems that she realizes she has some competition now. But you will be our standby regardless."

"Of course. I'm ready. Oh thank you so much!"

When the young woman left the office with a big smile on her face, Andre turned to Firmin and said:

"I have a feeling she's going to have a bright future here."

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

"Of course, the last thing we expected was for her to be killed a week after that show. She never had another opportunity to sing since Carlotta dropped her demands for the time being," Firmin finished.

Andre nodded. "But Miss Daaé was always ready in case Carlotta decided on having another diva tantrum. She was a team player. We wished we had known about her before."

"But we can't let regrets like that control us," Firmin said. "It was a tragedy. We lost a very talented young woman and from there… well, Mr. Trussler, you know what eventually happened."

"Indeed I do," Erik replied gravely.

"I mean… she could have been the answer to solving our financial problems once and for all. Carlotta should have been fired that night and Miss Daaé should have finished up the rest of the season. She didn't have an ego or any demands from what we learned from Gwen and the other cast members. She was well-liked by all."

"Never heard a complaint about her," Andre continued.

"Not a one," echoed Firmin.

Erik leaned back in his seat and thought hard. So… Christine did have her moment in the limelight, albeit a short one. He was glad to know that she at least had that experience before she died. However, only a small fraction of the world had the chance to hear her sing.

God… why her?

"I'm afraid that's all we know, Mr. Trussler," Firmin announced. "May I ask why this interest all of a sudden?"

"Hmm?" Erik hummed. "Well, I think I have the right to know what happened to my employees. I wasn't around at the time and I am sorely sorry I missed hearing her triumphant moment. She would have been a very good asset."

The other men nodded in agreement. "Yes she would have been. And Mr. Trussler… for what happened… for what _we _did… please let us tell you that we are deeply sorry. We were wrong in keeping the demands and for not following our common sense in getting rid of the problem sooner. We regret what our choices done to the theatre and we love the music… you know? To think we were so close in having to shut it down…"

"That's all for today," Erik said, interrupting their futile attempt to get back in his good graces. Erik wasn't born yesterday and knew these men wanted a job, especially since he made sure they wouldn't get one in the music world in this city. Or any other city for that matter. He had to keep himself from smirking at how he found them now… owning a scrapyard business. Certainly it was a big drop from the world of classical music and opera.

Oh, karma.

"Thank you gentlemen for seeing me. I'm sure you can see yourselves out." Erik held out his hand towards the door and the two men were immediately dismissed.

Realizing they weren't going to be given a chance to explain or grovel, Andre and Firmin took their leave without another word to the masked composer.

Exhaling loudly, Erik leaned back in his seat as he absorbed the new information. To think… Christine did sing as lead in one of his productions.

And he missed it.

More than anything he was furious with himself. He knew she had the potential despite the brief moments they spent together. He knew and yet…

He wasn't there.

He should have been, he reasoned. He should have known. He could have come out to the city to hear her and—

And what?

Flown her to New York? Take her with him as he traveled, promoting his latest star? At the time she had a fiancé (of course, how could he forget?) and he was with Elena.

Sighing, Erik covered his face, his hand touching the cool porcelain and he dropped it quickly as if the touch burned him.

Now wasn't the time for pity thoughts or what ifs for him. It was all about Christine and what happened that led up to the moment she was killed.

The whole thing was a surprise. Overnight she was a success, she received the promotion, and then a week passes and she was stuck for eternity in her former apartment.

The timing was too coincidental and while Erik wasn't a believer in such signs… after everything he has witnessed? He was certainly considering any possibilities and not crossing out any theories.

Yet, for a random burglary to be the end…

Something didn't sit right with him.

Erik never was one for conspiracies, but as he mulled it over, he wondered if it was possible that there was a person in his opera house that wasn't exactly thrilled that Miss Daaé received such honors. Sure she was well-liked but maybe someone put on a face and insisted they liked her, they were _happy _for her, but deep down… they were fuming that they were overlooked.

Of course, it would be suggesting that another employee was a murderer. Yet, Erik had been in this business long enough to know that people do tend to hold grudges and in some cases… they would do about anything to rise above everyone else to further their careers. Typically not murder but perhaps with the right inclination and fear… a person might be willing to do anything to preserve his or her position, even if going as far as to eliminate the competition.

And the only person that would have something to lose to Christine would be Carlotta.

From what Erik could remember, he wondered if that vapid woman could pull off such a diabolical scheme. Then as quickly as the thought came to him, it vanished.

There was no way in Hell that she could have been a criminal mastermind, let alone get away with murder. She might have broken a nail and that would have been the end.

Not Carlotta… but who?

It was bit of a stretch, but Erik wondered if jealousy was a part of the motive and the burglary was nothing more than a cover-up to keep the suspicion falling onto that person.

It was worth a shot and there was no harm in doing some digging around to determine if perhaps Christine did have an enemy that no one was aware of.

Of course, it would require Erik to be sly in uncovering this information without stirring Christine's suspicions. He would have to find a way to get her to disclose what he wanted to know without her thinking he was breaking his promise.

But if it meant he could do her a service and help her discover what is keeping her bound in this world… then he would take the risk.

After all, justice needed to be served and if no one was going to care… then he will.

TBC…

Sorry for the long wait. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Wow! I wasn't expecting that many readers to continue, but I'm so glad to see you back! I don't like it when stories are abandoned, but despite the long hiatus… this story will never be abandoned. I always finish what I start even if it takes me a while. Don't forget to review!

**Chapter 16**

_He was sitting in the auditorium saddened but relieved to be free from his relationship to Elena. There was only one other person on his mind and he was waiting for her to arrive. _

_Then like magic she was there in the middle of the stage clad all in white, a single beam of light shining on her creating an ethereal glow around her figure. _

_An angel of music…_

_She stood there waiting for him to speak and he did with only one word to command: "Sing!"_

_And she did. The glorious, heavenly sound surrounded him and he was lost… lost in the incredible soprano as she sang his music. _

_Yes!_

_This was what he had been searching for all along. Blinded by past beauty and love, he nearly missed the real true muse of his creation, his one and only Aminta._

_The song finished but not in his veins and he heeded her siren call and approached the stage. With no thought, he took her in his arms, his fingers weaving and tangling themselves in her long, soft, dark curls, that sweet pink mouth panting softly from the exertion, her twinkling blue eyes shining with emotion. _

_He was kissing her, his mouth seizing hers, taking what he wanted from the first moment he heard her sing. She tasted of sunshine, sweetness, and pure wonderful Christine. He begged for entry, his tongue teasing her and when she granted him permission… he tasted blood._

_Pulling back he watched in horror as a trickle of blood ran down the corner of her lips and down her white chin. She staggered back as a hole ripped through her chest, blood pouring down her pristine white gown. _

"_Why?" she gasped. "Why Erik?"_

_He looked down to find a gun in his hand._

An anguished cry spilled from him as he was immediately thrust back into consciousness, two petite hands gripping and shaking his shoulders as the face he had pictured he had murdered appeared before him.

"You're awake!" Christine exclaimed softly, her countenance shifting from fear to concern. "You were having one wild nightmare."

Her fingers curled against his cheek, caressing him to soothe his body's frantic trembling when Erik realized which cheek it was she was touching so gently. Instinctively, he jerked away, slapping his hand over the deformity as he clamored to his nightstand for his mask. The switch from horror to anger was swift as he shouted at her, "What did I tell you about my privacy? That includes my room while I'm sleeping!"

He grasped at the mask and hastily put it on to hide the mangled side as he turned glaring eyes towards her. What he wasn't expecting was the stormy fury in her expression.

"Well, I'm sorry if I disturbed you so!" she yelled back. "With your thrashing and shouts—I thought the decent thing to do would be to wake you from whatever it was that you were dreaming about. I guess it would have been better for a neighbor to call the cops or something and then you would have nothing to bitch about!"

Erik threw the covers off and stood, stretching to his full height over her. "You have no right to be here!" he insisted, his voice dropping a couple of octaves to keep himself from waking any potential neighbors, lest they should think that he had gone mental. "Get out!"

Christine was struggling herself, trying to keep from strangling the infuriating masked… and then it hit her. The mask!

"Is this because I saw your face?" she asked and when he let out a warning growl, she gasped. "It is! For God's sake Erik!" She pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "This isn't the first time I've seen your face. Honestly, it's not a big deal—"

"Not a big deal!?" he interrupted incredulously. "Are you kidding me?!"

"Hey, I have been invisible to you for the last two years!" Christine retorted. "I have seen you without the damn mask God knows how many times. What were you expecting? That I would faint like some shrinking violet? Maybe scream? Hello! I'm dead remember!"

How could he forget? The nightmare still had him shaken pretty badly, especially since he couldn't get rid of the image of him holding the gun that shot her to death. Of course, his mind rationalized, he had nothing to do with her murder being in New York at the time, but there was something unsettling about it. All he could picture was all that blood gushing out of her, the life draining away from those lively eyes…

And it was the same pair of eyes that were glowing with anger at him. She looked so alive, even acted like it sometimes, but then something would happen that would remind him that she was a ghost.

It was so fucking bizarre.

"Hey," Christine said, this time softly that she captured his attention. "Look, I'm sorry if it appeared I was trespassing on your privacy. That wasn't my intention. But you should know that you don't need your mask around me. This is your home and my being here doesn't change it. I have seen you plenty of times—"

"Stop. Just stop," he said wearily, not wanting to hear her next words. "I don't want to know."

"But Erik," she insisted. "I get why you wear it, but you don't need to hide from me. Your face doesn't define you and it doesn't mean anything."

"Doesn't mean anything?" He narrowed his gaze. "You have no idea what I have been through, what I _suffered_ with this—this _parasite _on my face!" he spat. "You cannot comprehend whatsoever what it was like to live with this day after day for your whole life."

"You're right," Christine agreed. "I don't. But I can guess what it was like after all something pushed you to try and commit suicide in the first place."

That silenced him and Christine took advantage of his silence. "I had always suspected it was a deformity of some kind. It had to be since you had gone to such lengths to make sure no one catches you without it. Even with all the girls you were connected to… not a single one has ever come forward to share with the rest of the world what Erik Trussler's deepest, darkest secret is."

She paused and as his shock still wrung him speechless, she went on. "Even when I was… alive, I had this feeling. I must admit curiosity did get the best of me and I wanted to know what it was that you were hiding. Being a fan of your music and all, I wanted to know exactly who the man behind the mask was. Of course, I would never jeopardize myself in acting on such an impulse and so I settled on what clearly was a birth defect and left it at that. Then afterwards, I was stunned to find you checking this place out to live in. Imagine! Erik Trussler coming to live in _my _apartment. Already I had the opportunity to work for him and now we're living together? Pretty shocking. Not to mention surreal.

"Anyways, I was starved for company and while you couldn't see me at the time, I was there when you were unpacking. I even pretended I was helping and had some 'chats' with you. Crazy, I know, but it passed the time and I got to know you more on this personal level. When you were done for the night, you took off your mask…"

xXx

_In the back of her mind, a voice was telling her that she should leave… give the man his privacy, despite not knowing of her existence. It was a courtesy thing but Christine found her earlier curiosity from when she was alive return a hundredfold and it only made it all the more tempting since he didn't have a clue that there was another person present._

_So when the mask was removed, Christine could only stare, transfixed, and ashamedly startled by his face. Of course, the feeling only lasted briefly and he didn't know about her, but it didn't stop the guilt from rising within her. _

_She knew how she felt and that sickened her. After all, the man had to live with this his entire life and she could only imagine how he must have felt to wear that mask. She did remember from magazines and his autobiography that he wore a mask since he was a child. Yet, in those stories… he insisted it was due to an eccentricity that he never shaken from, but Christine knew the truth. And she suspected she was now part of a very few that knew too otherwise the media would have had their hands on this long ago. _

_To say the deformity was shocking was an understatement. If anything, it was downright __**gruesome**__. The skin tissue was badly damaged and scars crisscrossed his right side of his face from numerous attempts of surgical correction. Of course, the surgery only served to further the problem rather than repair. In addition, the mask didn't help either. The inflammation was a bright red and puckered with the slightest touch. _

_No doubt it had to be a source of discomfort. _

_Christine could only grimace as Erik hissed while he applied a cream to the infected spots on his face. It looked so painful, so horribly painful that his lips pulled back tightly with each touch he made to his face. Finally, he finished his task and went back into the room to climb into bed. He was careful not to press his damaged cheek to the pillow and as he slept… she noticed he never once moved from his spot. _

_As the months went by, Christine paid extreme close attention to the fact that Erik took great lengths to make sure his face was never seen. The few times he brought Elena back to his apartment, he slept with a cloth mask and he would go those nights without applying the lotion. He wasn't taking any chances if someone should walk in on him and it was evident that not even his girlfriend knew what was behind that mask…_

xXx

"So you see? I knew and I did sort of help to make sure that no one else saw too. It was important to you so if I knew you took off your mask, I would distract whoever was in the apartment so they wouldn't walk in. Grant it, I didn't have to do it a lot, but your girlfriend almost did when you went too long without putting on that cream of yours and you had no choice to do it with her a couple of feet away. I figured you had a reason for not telling her and it was best for you to do it on your own and not by some accident."

Suddenly, a shiver crawled down his spine. Christine had seen his face and still she chose to remain? It didn't matter she didn't have much choice, but the fact of the matter was that she was right there and it didn't bother her.

_**It didn't bother her**_.

He didn't know if he should be thrilled or upset. Her indifference much like Nadir's was unnerving and Erik didn't like that. He didn't want _that_.

Christine couldn't understand the eerie silence that continued to stretch on after she told him her story. This was so unlike him and she half-expected him to say something or at least react to what she admitted.

"Erik?" she called out softly. "Are you-?"

"Please leave me," he whispered brokenly. "Just go."

Christine was stunned. Of all the possible reactions this was not what she expected. "Erik, it was nothing I swear—"

"Get the fuck out of here!" This time each word was punctuated with a sharp, icy tone that Christine stood up and began to shimmer.

Erik watched as her form faded away and when he could no longer sense her presence, he collapsed back on the bed, his stare towards the ceiling.

What the Hell was wrong with him?

xxXXxx

That morning Christine debated on whether or not if she should reveal herself, knowing how upset Erik was the other night, but she decided to go ahead and surprise him.

"Morning!" she chirped as she arranged a nice breakfast—scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast—for him. It was an attempt to apologize for coming in on him while his mask was off. She knew it was a touchy subject for him and she felt that she perhaps pushed him too far when she wanted him to talk to her. She forgot that while she wanted to talk about everything that not everyone felt the same… especially since she was a ghost and he was alive. She had to tread carefully when it came to Erik and Christine could be very patient when she put her mind to it. After all, time made no difference to her anymore.

She set his plate down and her smile only deepened at the surprise look on his face. The last thing Erik would have expected was a homemade breakfast and he instantly regretted his rude behavior towards her. He didn't deserve this. Not this kindness.

"Oh no you don't," Christine chided once she saw the dark expression shadow his eyes. "I was in the wrong for invading your privacy. And if you contradict me, not only will I get angry but I will be insulted that you didn't eat my hard work. Now, sit down and enjoy."

Just like that Erik felt a tiny quirk of a grin tug on his lips and did as he was told. Had it been anyone else another battle would have ensued, but seeing her bubbly smile and the glow surrounding her… he found his stomach growling at the thought of real food.

Christine took her spot and he noticed that she had food on her plate as well. With a raise of his eyebrow, Erik pointed at it. "I thought you didn't eat."

"I don't but I got carried away while cooking and I don't want to waste it. And yes, I am fully aware of the irony in that, but it's been a long time since I cooked for someone and it smelled so good…"

"I got it. You don't have to explain it to me," Erik said.

"Good." As they ate, well, Erik ate while she put the food towards her mouth and allow it to fall back on her plate. "I take it you slept better? No more awful nightmares?"

"No," he told her. What he wasn't going to tell her was how he spent at least a couple of hours awake wondering about the dream. And how he couldn't shake the need of what it might be like to kiss her. Obviously, he had to do something since he was resorting back to a schoolboy's fantasy of kissing girls. "I'm sorry for what I said last night. You were concerned and you every right to make sure everything was fine. I went too far—"

"Yes you did," she agreed. "But I get it Erik. I do. It's over and there is no point in going back and keep digging at it. Let's put it behind us."

"Wait… where is Christine Daaé and where did you put her?"

"Shut up," she chortled. "Don't make me break the light bulbs."

He raised his hands up in surrender. "No thank you."

She gave a triumphed nod. "So… are you ready to talk about it?"

"About what?" Confusion creased his brow. Didn't they just agree that they were going to put the issue behind them?

"Your nightmare," she said. "I was going to see if you wanted to talk about it last night, but after the whole face thing… I dropped it."

"It was just a nightmare. That's all."

She sighed. "It wasn't 'just a nightmare.' I heard you, remember? Tell me what happened and I will provide some useful insight about your mind so you'll have a better night later. I promise I won't charge you with too much of my time because we are roommates."

In spite of himself, Erik found himself chuckling as Christine straightened her posture, her hands clasped together as her chin rested on top of them as she put on her best "doctor" face.

"Go on and tellz me what de problem is?" she said in her best impersonation of Sigmund Freud.

There was no way in Hell he was going to tell her it had been about her, and of course, the kiss. Even now Erik stole a glimpse at her pink lips and wondered what it would be like…

_No! _he scolded himself. _She's a ghost. Clearly, it's been a while and what you need is a really good lay and you're only fantasizing about the closest woman near you. _

"I can't remember," he lied.

Her forehead crinkled. "Nothing?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I must have been in a pretty deep sleep."

She studied his face, searching for some indication that he was lying or if she could see the truth if she looked hard enough. Eventually, she gave up and resumed her "eating."

Erik didn't realize he was holding his breath during this scrutiny and when she seemed distracted, he let out the air quietly.

Putting another forkful of eggs in his mouth, he chewed pensively as he wondered if he should broach the subject now about her promotion. But it seemed to close to the truth about his nightmare if what he suspected was true that she was killed because of it.

No… he won't mention it now. Later he will.

xxXXxx

Three days went by before Erik had the opportunity to bring it up to Christine. And he had the perfect timing.

Christine had gone to the theatre again like before… and when the rest of the cast and crew left, he could hear her singing once more. At first, he didn't make himself known as he kept to his office. He savored the intimacy of it as he was the only person who heard her lovely voice. It wasn't until he returned to the apartment that he brought it up.

"I heard you singing today. And the other day."

Christine blushed, not expecting that she would be caught. But was it truly a surprise? "Sorry if I disturbed your work."

"On the contrary… it was a wonderful distraction," he told her with delight. "You really do have a beautiful voice. I had to listen to you in order for my memory to be jogged. But now… Now I remember why I wanted you to stay that night. You have a voice of an angel. A gift such as that shouldn't be wasted. I should have promoted you right on the spot."

"Well, you were right. I needed to have more training and I'm glad you didn't. I would have caused more harm than good," she replied.

"I don't think so. And I'm rarely wrong."

"Jury's out on that," she said, teasing him. "But thank you. Actually, I was promoted."

"Oh?" he said as his arms crossed over. "I didn't know. Andre and Firmin must have done it. Good to know those idiots did something right after all."

"Yes, well, it didn't last long. I was Carlotta's understudy and I did sing one night. It was the best night of my life. And the very next day… the reviews! I thought Carlotta was going to have a heart attack when she heard how well I did. Of course, if she did then I would have kept singing."

"Yes… she must have been quite upset at the news," Erik added.

"That's an understatement. She wanted me to be fired, but the managers would have none of it. If she didn't want me to perform, then she would have to come in on time. So my time in the spotlight was short-lived, but it was an incredible moment for me. I wouldn't have changed it."

"Still… you were the star for that night. She was no doubt terribly jealous."

"I don't know…" Christine admitted. "She was angry. Jealous? I guess so but she accepted my new position and she showed up every night after the fact. She was even trying to make up for what she did in case the managers decided to replace her. But for the most part she ignored me. Never spoke to me or acknowledged me when I was near. I was okay with it. I didn't care if she liked me or not. I was so happy that I had this opportunity. Even Raoul and Meg were happy—"

"Who?" Erik interrupted.

"Raoul was my fiancé and Meg… she was my best friend. She works—worked for you too."

"Worked?"

Christine nodded. "Yeah. She quit after I died. I couldn't understand why since she was well on her way to gaining a promotion for herself. I heard from the managers that the prima ballerina was stepping down at the end of the season and they were thinking of Meg for the job. I was the one who pointed her out and they agreed she would be suitable. But last I heard she was with the Detroit Ballet Company."

Interesting… if anyone should know more about Carlotta's feelings about Christine, then it would have to be her former best friend.

Erik was already making plans in his head about meeting up with this Meg to find out what she knew.

TBC…


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Yay! We have another chapter done! Thank you so much for everyone sticking around and welcome new readers! I'm so glad you like this! I want to dedicate this chapter to a few of my loyal readers—emeraldphan, Kumon5, xsilver-galaxyx, and Wandering-Phantom. Your comments always make my day! And I know some of you are wondering what how this will end... We're not at the end yet, but I do have some tricks up my sleeves and I do have a couple possible endings in mind. I might post them both and allow you to decide which one you want to follow. But if you like this… then I recommend another story of mine—_The Promise_. It's old but it deals with a ghostly Erik haunting Christine and there are some not so pretty things that happen in the story. Of course, don't forget to review!

**A/N2: This is important!** It was brought to my attention an hour ago that some talentless hack who doesn't know what "original idea" means has taken one of my stories and has published it on Amazon as his own. That's right! It was an original story under called A Fairy Tale that I wrote some years back. In fact, he thought he was sooo clever that he disguised it as A Fairy Tale- A Classic Romantic Novel. I have contacted Amazon and this piece of scum what I thought and it turns out… I'm not the only author he stole from. If anyone hears or finds any of my stories somewhere else that I have not mentioned being published, then please send that information to me. I WILL post that information under MY profile for any interested readers if they want to buy a copy of my book. I DO NOT TOLERATE THIS KIND OF CRIME! We writers have to stick together and I would certainly do the same for anyone if I find out that some jerk can't write and took your hard work and claimed it as his "one of his many 39 novels."

**Chapter 17**

It wasn't long but after a quick search through the employee's files, Erik found Meg Gallagher. Now that he knew her name it was only a matter of moments after making some calls that he discovered that she was still working for the ballet company Christine mentioned. Not as a prima ballerina, but as a first soloist.

They were rehearsing _Swan Lake _when Erik came in. Immediately, he picked her out from the photo he had of her. The only difference was that Meg's hair was shorter now and a lot curlier. He stayed in the back to watch for a brief moment, mentally noting that she was one of the leading swans.

After a few minutes, Erik made his way down the aisle and couldn't hide back the smirk when the blonde caught sight of him, her recognition caused her to lose count in the dance.

A break was announced and while the other dancers went their ways, there was no denying that they were chattering about Erik Trussler.

While patience was not his strongest virtue, he waited for Meg as she was being admonished for her mistake. When the dancer was released, Erik saw that she quickly fled the stage.

Curiosity got the better of him as he stood and was about to follow her. Yet, he didn't have to as Meg came out with a duffel bag over her shoulder. She came down the steps that led to the stage and was hurrying out when Erik stepped out to stop her.

"Ms. Gallagher?" Erik called out, freezing her on the spot. "Hello. I don't believe we formally met, but you once worked at my theatre."

Meg turned around and shifted her weight. "Oh! I'm sorry Mr. Trussler, I didn't see you—"

He waved his hand, cutting her off. "That's all right. You were quite good up there. It's a very tough dance."

"Thank you." The compliment certainly confused her and he was about to say more, but she beat him to it. "I'm sorry but is there something I can do for you?"

He grinned. "As a matter of fact, I think there is. If you don't mind, I just need about ten minutes of your time. I'll make sure you're back on time for rehearsal to continue."

She pursed her lips as if making sure if what she heard was correct. At last, she nodded and he followed her out into the lobby.

"There's a coffee place down the block. We can talk there."

Once they were there, they each ordered a small cup of coffee, Meg was the first to speak. "I'm so sorry. This is really surreal for me. I can't believe that Erik Trussler is here and with me."

Chalking up her earlier behavior as bewilderment (and a bit star-struck), Erik sat back in his chair and took a tentative sip of his drink. "I am sorry that I got you into trouble. I know I can have a show-stopping affect."

She chuckled at his joke. "Yes, well, it's not every day that a former boss wanders into your current place of work."

"Touché."

Meg tapped her fingers on the table. "I guess I should start off by asking if there is something wrong, but to be fair, I did leave nearly three years ago."

"And there are no hard feelings I can assure you," Erik told her. "But I will admit that I am sad to see that a talent such as yours did slip by under my watch."

"Well, it's not your fault," she said while the faintest of pink dusted her cheeks. "I thought it best for me to leave. That is all."

"I bet. Losing someone you care about can be life shattering. Sometimes putting distance is the best option to heal."

"Excuse me?" Meg asked sharply, but her voice still held that hint of quietness to keep others from overhearing.

"Forgive me. Let me start from the beginning… I know I wasn't around a lot when you were under my employment. When I heard the news about Christine Daaé, I didn't have the full story until recently and from what I heard… you two were close. I wanted to offer my condolences."

"Thank you." Meg frowned. "This is going to sound rude, but I don't understand why you are reaching out to me now."

"Well, I know the anniversary of her death is coming up. October 28th right?"

"Yes."

"I don't often show it but I do care about my employees. All of them and it does sadden me to know that one of my own died. You might have heard on the news about my little incident."

Understanding dawned in her hazel eyes as she nodded. "I did."

"Certainly put a lot in perspective for me. And I know there is no way of bringing your friend back, but I would like to hear more about her. Maybe even try to see what I can do to make sure that another tragedy like this doesn't happen again."

"That would be great if you had a crystal ball that told you that, but as you heard, it was a robbery gone wrong."

"Yes, I know," Erik said. "But I think there is something more to it. I know that she had been recently promoted and certainly it had to trigger some unhappiness for a few people."

"Do you… Are you implying that it wasn't an accident that Christine was killed?" Meg gasped.

He shrugged. "I don't know Ms. Gallagher. I'm trying to look at all the angles that the police might have missed. I know Carlotta Giudicelli wasn't someone that everyone got along well with and she wasn't exactly thrilled that Ms. Daaé was her understudy."

"Yes, well, Carlotta didn't like anyone usurping her spot. Christine was the best and she knew that. However, to even entertain the notion that she would do something to get rid of her… that's not Carlotta or anyone else at the theatre."

"You're certain?"

"Absolutely," Meg answered. "Mr. Trussler, no offense, but the police did do their investigation and there was no one who had a vendetta against Christine. She didn't have enemies."

"Of course. I was… well, there had been a lot of speculation. I wanted to put some of those rumors to rest."

"I understand. But what happened to Christine was unfortunate and I pray to God every night that the police will catch that bastard for what he did… but there isn't anything anyone can do. There were no witnesses or at least none that have stepped forward. I appreciate that you want to find answers, but I'm afraid I have none to offer. As for the future safety of your current employees, I guess I would make the suggestion that they be on their guard at all times. Lock their doors and don't answer the door to a stranger, even if they appear to be harmless."

Meg looked down at his watch and sighed. "I have to go back or else I will make the director very angry again. It was nice speaking to you Mr. Trussler. And thank you. Christine was a dear friend of mine. We've known each other since high school and I can't believe that someone could take her away in a blink of an eye."

The blonde wiped her eye with her hand. "I still get teary-eyed when I think of her. I guess I know the true meaning that bad things do happen to good people."

"Let me walk you back," Erik offered, a brief moment of panic seizing him. He didn't learn anything of use from the dancer and he felt there was something else that she wasn't sharing.

"You don't have to—"

"I insist," Erik said, rising from his chair. "After all, you were an employee of mine."

Meg was going to object, but then decided against it. "All right."

As they walked back, Meg astonished him by asking him a question. "I have to ask… but is it true that you and Elena Carlton broke up?"

It was so out of the blue that Erik almost tripped. "Pardon?"

"Well, you're a celebrity and I don't know if I'll ever have a chance to get the scoop from the actual source and—"

"I did ask you some personal questions already," Erik finished for her. He exhaled and thought what was the harm in answering her? "Yes. It's true."

"I'm sorry!" she gushed. "You two were so cute together…"

"Yes, well, relationships come and go."

"Still," Meg added. "I'm sorry it didn't work. Of course, Christine would have been thrilled."

"Why?" This was startlingly. Christine… thrilled that he and Elena weren't together? She never gave that impression. In fact, she didn't give him any impression about any of his relationships.

"She always had a thing for you. Who didn't, right? But you were her idol. It was her dream to sing for you and she loved being at your opera house. Of course, Raoul wasn't your number one fan."

"I take it that Raoul was her boyfriend?"

"Fiancé," Meg corrected. "Yeah, he didn't like that she was working there. He was afraid with your reputation that you and Christine would... well, Christine wasn't that type of girl. She loved Raoul very much. I had never seen a couple that was so perfect for each other or who was more devoted to each other. She was very lucky to have a guy like him."

"But…"

"There were no buts. Christine liked you but she wouldn't hurt Raoul. Anyways, thank you Mr. Trussler for walking me. It was nice meeting you. Formally."

"Likewise." Erik shook her hand. "Thank you for taking your time in talking to me. I know it still has to be difficult."

"Every day is a new day," Meg responded with cheerfulness. "I know Christine is in a better place. That counts for something."

"Yeah…" he spoke softly, his eyes drifting to the sky. _If she only knew…_

Meg was gone and Erik… well, he still had plenty of questions and not enough answers. But there was the interesting development about Christine and her fiancé… so there was trouble in paradise. Of course, Christine did mention they had their arguments, but this was intriguing since it did involve him. Why she never said so was also puzzling.

Then again… why would she when he learned she was haunting him? At least Christine was sane and not some kind of freak like some groupies can be.

Still…

Christine liked him.

And her lover didn't like it.

True, Erik wasn't around much when she was alive, but would that be enough to make a person reach the brink of madness and arranged a murder?

If her fiancé was guilty… then it stood to reason why Christine might not remember who killed her. Perhaps, she didn't want to admit to herself that the man she loved… who she pledged to be his wife would murder her in cold blood.

Erik couldn't help but think about his situation. He was livid that Elena had cheated on him and broke his heart and he might have (very guiltily) wished the pop beauty death, but he would never, _never _act on it. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if that was the case.

But this Raoul… could he?

He began to walk away from the Detroit Opera House when he glanced at his watch. 2:33.

Shit.

He forgot he had another appointment with Antoinette Giry at 2:00.

Muttering another curse, Erik held out his arm and hailed down a taxi. He wasn't going to live this down as the cab wove in and out of traffic.

xxXXxx

Like he expected, Antoinette was impatiently awaiting with her pen tapping her notepad as her gray eyes flicked angrily at him.

"You're late," she said.

"I know. I lost track of time." Erik took his seat in front of her desk. She had insisted that they would meet at the hospital and while he loathed being there… She did it for his discomfort as he had to (in her words) "grow up and get over his weak ass fear."

"You do look lovely today Annie. Is that a new bun?"

"Shut it Erik," the doctor glowered. "This is new for you. And frankly, if you're going to be late I'd rather you not show up."

"Now, now," he said. "That's not something a doctor should say to her patient, especially when one has a history of issues."

"You'll live," Antoinette retorted. "But the reputation of my profession does require me to inquiry about why you're so late."

"If you're thinking that I suffered a relapse then you're surely wrong."

"That's good to know."

"I was…" Should he tell her? The last thing he wanted was for her to figure out that his investigation had to do with the woman he had seen, and of course, putting it together that Christine was that woman and she was a ghost living with him. He might as well admit himself into the loony bin before she could certify him as mentally unstable. Of course, as long as he doesn't give out too much information then she wouldn't be able to put two-and-two together.

"…I was looking at an unsolved murder case."

That was the last thing she expected him to say and her expression showed it. "Really? Last I checked you were a composer not a detective."

"Yes, well, this involved a former employee of mine and it kept bugging me so I thought why not give it a try?"

"Just like that, huh? You decided to be Sherlock Holmes."

"I didn't say I was. I didn't solve it."

"Ah. Well, it's certainly an interesting and different hobby to undertake."

"She was one of my singers. Brilliant actually. She could have brought the world to their knees if they heard her. And now…"

"Now, she's singing in the choir of angels. I got it. I must say, Erik, I couldn't picture you as an amateur detective."

"I'm still in a block with my opera. I'm hoping it might give me some inspiration."

She thought about it for a moment. "A little heartless but who knows? Crazier things worked for my patients."

"You're… you're going to let me pursue this?" He was a bit flabbergasted by this. Clearly, it wasn't the sort of encouragement he thought he would get from Antoinette.

"Me let you?" Antoinette exclaimed. "Erik, I can't get you to take off your mask. What in the world makes you think you need my permission to do this? You're a grown man the last time I checked. If you want to get your jollies off by doing this, then so be it. Besides, if it helps in the long run, then who am I to turn it down? Maybe eventually you'll take off your mask."

"Or maybe I won't."

She shrugged. "You never know. Sometimes it's the story that gets to us the most and it has us do something completely unpredictable."

With that said, the appointment was over. She had other people that needed to see her including one former mayor who insisted he was a victim of the press and the government and well… in the words of Dr. Antoinette Giry: "He is utterly hopeless, more narcissistic than you, and he's only using me to gain sympathy. Of course, the only sympathy he's getting is helping me get that timeshare in the Bahamas."

And she had the audacity to call him heartless.

Well, at least she recognized that in herself. For Erik, he was really doing this for Christine. She couldn't remember the truth for whatever reason and he was going to do his best to help her.

After all, she did save him and he wanted to return the favor in any way possible. Of course buying a present was out of the question. So this would have to do.

Erik walked back to the apartment, pulling his coat closer, as he hurried to escape from the cold.

The doorman spotted him and had the door opened for him as Erik rushed inside.

"Thank you Benny," Erik mumbled while loosening his coat. He didn't break his pace as he went towards the stairs as the doorman tried speaking, "Mr. Trussler, there's—"

He climbed the stairs as it was good exercise and it was the fastest way for him to warm himself up. Reaching the eighth floor, Erik pushed the door open and trudged down the hall to his apartment.

He saw a person standing beside his door, his back towards Erik. At first, he thought it was a guest of a neighbor that was waiting for the friend to come out and he had to pick his door to lean upon.

This irritated Erik to no end. He stormed up to the other man and said gruffly, "It's not polite to lean on other people's doors, especially when they want to go in."

The man jumped, clearly startled, but when he turned around… Erik was stunned to see that he was fuming. He was certainly younger than Erik, about eight years or so, but there was something also in his expression that made him appear older than what he really was. And it didn't help that he happened to have a handsome face.

"I should say the same about you. It's not polite to go to a young woman and bring up unpleasant memories for her, but life's a bitch isn't it?"

The stranger's tone was as icy as it sounded, but there was a look of weariness around his mouth and chin and the skin around his eyes looked slightly red. As if he was crying or something.

"Do I know you?" Erik hotly asked. He didn't know who the Hell this person thought he was, but he wasn't going to let some punk get under his skin.

"No but I know you Erik Trussler," the man replied. "I didn't know it at the time, but if I had known, you would be the last person I would give my apartment to."

Then it hit Erik of the identity of this man.

The man nodded grimly when he saw the recognition flashed in the eyes of the masked man. "My name is Raoul de Chagny. And I want to talk to you about Christine."

TBC…


End file.
